Worldwar: Strangereal
by Trainalf
Summary: War was never rare to Strangereal. But in 2010, during the greatest war to engulf the planet, a far greater threat appeared. Now, the entire world is united in a war against one foe: The Race. Canon and OC POVs.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This author and story assumes you are familiar with the world and backstory of the Ace Combat and Worldwar universes, including things such as geography, dates, and major events. The majority of the following timeline is taken directly from canon source material, with some altercations since a full map of the world has never been given.

 **JUNE 2017 UPDATE. PLEASE READ FOR HIATUS INFORMATION.**

As of the date above, I'm posting this notice. This story was conceived and written before Ace Combat 7's announcement using all available information at the time. Ace Combat 7, or the information thus far, has rendered the Usean portions on this story completely incorrect. Once Ace Combat 7 is released, this story will be rewritten using all new information to make it was accurate to the Ace Combat world as possible.

X

Late 2006: The militant Free Erusea group is put down on the Usean Continent, putting the last remnants of both the Ulysses Disaster and Second Usean Continental War to rest. The past two years have seen a large number of refugees return to the continent as national governments reconstitute themselves. Usea also begins to resume contact with the rest of the outside world as foreign dignitaries return. By far the most momentous occasion is when recently re-elected Osean President Vincent Harling comes to tour the continent to both make amends for Osea's role in the 1998 First Continental War and promise trade deals to boost Usea's damaged economy.

On the Anean Continent on the opposite side of the world, the countries of Emmeria, Estovakia, and Nordennavic are in the process of trying unite into one country- the Republic of Anea. The attempt is brought on by the damage inflicted to all three members, particularly Estovakia, from the same Ulysses disaster that struck Usea. Due to Estovakia's weak central government though, aid and rebuilding is difficult and slows the realization of the concept.

April 2007: A series of tropical storms destroy the Comona Space Station on the archipelago (part of the Federation of Central Usea) south of continental Usea, virtually wiping out the multinational Usean space program and the world's view into deep space. Due to rebuilding still ongoing from the recent end to the 2nd Usean Continental War, no plans are made for the reconstruction of either the facility or the program and efforts are focused exclusively of aid for the local populations.

On the Anean Contintent, the Federal Republic of Estovakia finally officially collapses into a multi-faction civil war. Though still existing on paper, the Republic of Anea concept starts to collapse and both Emmeria and Nordennavic stop taking steps towards the initiative and aid is ceased towards Estovakia. Aid is later resumed by Emmeria to the Lyes United Front, a faction that had taken control of much of western Estovakia, including its Capital. However, much of the supplies is diverted to either LUF military forces or used to control civilian populations.

May 2007: The Usean ISAF military alliance, still largely responsible for keeping order in the continent, test the Erusean X-02 Wyvern fighter in a series of trials to determine its capabilities. Many nations on the continent express interest in acquiring the new plane for their Air Forces and Navies in place of war reparations from Erusea. The test are mainly conducted by lieutenant colonel Issaac Lensen of the Republic of Amber Air Force and of war fame as the 'Ribbon Fighter'.

August 2007: Unknown to the human powers of Strangereal, the Race Conquest Fleet enters the solar system, projected to reach earth in three years' time. The fleet is composed of hundreds of unarmed starships carrying a Conquest Army of nearly 30,000,000, including 14,000,000 infantry forces, nearly 900,000 armored vehicles, and almost 120,000 aircraft.

December 2007: A Belkan cargo ship makes port in Eastern Estovakia, controlled by the Eastern Faction- remnants of Estovakia's military before the Ulysses disaster. Aboard are dozens of Belkan scientists and veterans of the 1995 Belkan War, on the run from authorities and terrorism charges. In exchange for safety, they promise blueprints and designs for a Belkan aerial command cruiser and other technology, such as burst missiles. The Eastern Faction accepts their offer.

January 23rd, 2008: Tests conclude and the other nations of Usea place orders for approximately 200 Wyverns and parts in exchange for cancelling war reparations. Erusea agrees and the first batch are delivered to Amber the following month.

May 15th, 2008: Emmeria deploys several units of its Army to its border with Estovakia following several instances of cross-border fire as the Estovakian Civil war continues to escalate. Unknown to either Emmeria or the other factions of the civil war, the Eastern Faction has already began construction of an 'Aerial Fleet' with the help of the defected Belkans, a five ship formation which could project firepower across the entire continent.

August 21st, 2008: The G7 Summit is held above earth in the Arkbird, an orbital ship built jointly by the superpower countries of Osean and Yuktobania for the purpose of clearing space debris from around the planet. The seven countries in attendance include Osea, Yuktobania, the Federation of Central Usea, the Federal Republic of Erusea (still under an interim government), Verusa, Nordlands, and the Republic of Anea.

The purpose of the meeting involves the signing of several demilitarization treaties between Osea and Yuktobania (a continuation of Cold War drawdowns), and plans to construct an international space station with the cooperation of all present states.

August 23rd, 2008: In Southern Belka, a secret meeting is held between the highest members of the Grey Men, a secret militant group comprised of former Belkan soldiers, businessmen, and politicians seeking to return the nation to a position of power. A plan is formed comprising of three main goals:

Re-launching of Belka's V-2 WMD program.

The growth of the organizations armed wing until to a point it can become the official military of Belka once the time is right.

Re-igniting the Cold War between Osea and Yuktobania, with the intention of having both countries eventually go to war and wipe each other out. Plans are made to use assets already within Yuktobania to encourage a coup of the country's current leader in favor of a more war-minded leadership. Further cells planted after the war are contacted within each nation to monitor affairs.

January 13th, 2009: As part of the agreed arms reduction, Yuktobania begins to consider decommissioning its two Scinfaxi class submarines- massive ballistic submarine/aircraft carrier hybrids built during the Cold War for attacking Osea. The Grey Men consider intervention, but several members of the Yuktobanian Navy and leadership oppose the plan, and it is disregarded.

January 25th, 2009: The Eastern Faction in Estovakia tests its first burst missile against a rival faction's navy north of Anea. The attack is so effective, the entire fleet is wiped out in the blink of an eye, leaving no clue to either Emmeria or the rival factions what happened. Plans are made to incorporate the technology into the Aerial Fleet project.

The detonation is picked up, however, by a satellite from Yuktobania, the country that seized all Belkan burst missile technology after the Belkan War. Agents are sent in to investigate. Word gets back to the Grey Men, who also send parties to investigate.

March 19th, 2009: At the Basset Space center in Southern Osea, the G7 nations finally begin construction of the International Space Station. Astronauts from all countries sans Estovakia are transferred with a contingent of supplies to the Arkbird, which is meant to be the base for construction of the instillation.

November 24th, 2009: Yuktobania ceases its investigations in Anea after several of its agents are killed during the fighting, having gained no indication the Belkan Government broke the post-war treaty on arms dealing. Grey Men agents learn of the defectors and about the Aerial Fleet project. Two scientists are convinced to return to Belka to help with the V-2 and are smuggled out of the country under the Eastern Faction's nose, inadvertently delaying the Aerial Fleet project.

February 1st, 2010: In a secret coup, Prime Minister Nikanor of Yuktobania is disposed and imprisoned in the country's remote northeast. A cover story of illness is presented to the public while his replacements, hardliners left over from the Cold War, covertly start expanding Yuktobania's military and drawing up invasion plans for Osea.

February 15th: 2010: In yet another meeting, the Grey Men discuss their progress. All members are confident that no further meddling is needed in Yuktobania, and that war is inevitable. Sleeper cells in both the Osean and Yuktobanian militaries are ordered activated in preparation. By this point, the organization has recruited over 9,000 of their fellow countrymen, many of them former soldiers, to form at least a capable secret Air Force and small Army.

Progress of the V2 project, however, has proved slow despite its secret completion over a decade previous, as the original documents were destroyed. A guarantee is made the group will have the weapon by early next year. A platform to launch it has yet to be devised.

February 16th, 2010: Yuktobania secretly approaches Erusea to order 60 X-02s for its Air Force and Navy. The new government proves reluctant, however, due to the fear of upsetting its neighbors. Grunder Industries, a North Osean munitions company secretly headed by a member of the Grey Men group, approaches and offers to act as a middleman, manufacturing the craft and sending them to Yuktobania. All three parties reach an agreement for only 36 X-02s.

The next day, Grunder Industries approaches Yuktobania about selling it the blueprints for a 'superplane': the ADF-01 equipped with a tactical laser system. For Belka to regain its former position, Osea must be crippled, as it lies on Belka's border and even holds some former Belkan land. The company hopes to arm Yuktobania to easily crush its enemy. Despite lacking the industry to immediately build the craft, Yuktobania purchases the plans for a large sum that finds its way inevitably back to the Grey Men.

February 27th, 2010: Only months away from earth, the Conquest Fleet begins picking up various signals from their target planet. After some confusion to a course of action, the decision is made to wake up the high ranking members of the Fleet up from cold sleep early. The nations of Strangereal remain unaware.


	2. Chapter 2

XX A/N XX

Forgive me if some geographical facts are off here in the first section- I don't think we've ever gotten a real defined map of the countries in Usea. But from what canon tells us, there were four small countries on Erusea's doorstep.

And forgive me for being rusty on my knowledge of the Race- I read all the books…6 years ago. I remember the important bits though. Feel free to correct me on any errors.

X

Usea was the small continent, barely the size of the nation of Osea, hosting a population of just over 300 million people. From above, it had the curious appearance of being nearly split in half by the great mountain chain, the Lambert Mountains, which ran from east to west nearly the entire continent. Hundreds of islands surrounded the mainland, as did numerous bays and even a small inland sea on the northern part of the continent.

Seven nations occupied Usea: North Point, the Federation of Central Usea, San Salvacion, the Independent State of Ugellas, the Federal Republic of Amber, Delarus, and the Federal Republic of Erusea.

The Federation of Central Usea was the dominant power of Usea, especially after the First Continental War. It controlled over 50% of the continent and all but a few of the islands surrounding it. Following Erusea's defeat in the war two years previous, it now had the third largest military on the planet and was the dominant political power in Usea.

The only large island it didn't claim was the island nation of North Point, a small neutral power northeast of the mainland. The country had had little to do in Usean affairs until the continental wars, and kept to itself now that both had concluded.

The second largest country on the continent was Erusea on the western half, despite only having a fourth the land area of the FCU. Like the continent, the country was nearly in two parts from the Lambert Mountains that ran through it, as well as a smaller Amber mountains in the southern region. The country was still under a provisional government and rebuilding after the last war. Its remaining military had been mostly disbanded and remaining equipment given as reparation to the victors, including the four tiny countries on its border that separated it from its longtime enemy the FCU and had been the first targets of its aggression just a few years ago.

North of the Lambert Mountains was Delarus, a small nation that stretched along Usea's northern coast. South of them was the nation of San Salvacion, which had the peculiar nature of existing, barely connected, on each side of the Lambert Mountain Range.

Though its half north of the mountains bordered Erusea, its southern half didn't. They were separated by the tiny strip of land that was Ugellas. On the southern border of both of those nations was the Republic of Amber, a small nation that was mostly situated along the inside of a gulf in southern Usea, a gulf which it, Erusea, and the FCU all had territory bordering.

X May 15th, 2007, International Waters X

Three specs charged across the clear blue sky of the gulf, high above the clear blue sea and occasional rocky outcrop. One led the other two, apparently in pursuit. At Mach 2.5, the first spec was easily staying ahead of the others.

Suddenly, the lead aircraft inverted and dived, losing altitude at an extreme rate. The other two quickly followed and all three were soon heading vertically down. The first plane pulled out of its dive quickly and revealed itself to be an X-02 Wyvern adorned with ISAF markings as it cruised above the water. The other two specs came out of their dive as well- F/A-22 Raptors with the marking of the Usean Federation Air Force (UFAF). It was the closest the FCU aircraft had gotten to the X-02 that day but the advantage was quickly lost.

Their target pulled up and gunned the engine. Light and streamlined, the X-02 swiftly gained altitude as it climbed. The Raptors pulled back and tried to climb after it. But with a lower max speed, both quickly fell behind the other craft quickly. Quickly passing 20,000 feet, the X-02 leveled out and slowed, its wings unfolding to provide further stability.

Inside the cockpit, Republic of Amber Air Force lieutenant colonel Issaac Lensen glanced back and counted the seconds until the other planes playing aggressor in this exercise caught up. The only advantage they'd had all day was their plane's natural stealth capabilities sometimes making them disappear from his radar, but they'd never exploited it to get close to him. Two hours and they hadn't even locked on to him once.

The chase over, both F/A-22s pulled up on either side of him, the pilots inside the cockpits giving him a thumbs up. The good natured gesture was part of the reason Lensen had enjoyed these exercises; the FCU pilots were decent guys. He still remembered during the lead up to the war how FCU troops had been stationed in Amber, and how few of his countrymen had good things to say about them, especially when it was obvious they were trying to keep their political dominance on the continent.

"SkyEye, Chess Master, did you get that data?" He radioed the two AWACS, Command & Control planes, that had been watching from afar. Both were ISAF aircraft, although they also both came from the FCU's military forces. Sky Eye's presence was practically guaranteed wherever Lensen's was- the two were well known for working together effectively.

"Affirmative Mobius 1, we got it." SkyEye responded. "That's all of Omega Squadron you've beaten now."

"Ah, Chess Master, you mind not relaying those results to base just yet? I'd rather delay my ass chewing." Omega 7, one of the planes who'd been planning aggressor, radioed.

"Nothing the rest of your squadron hasn't gone through, Hopper." Lensen grinned as he waved at the other pilot. He knew the pilots of both planes, the whole squadron even. Omega Squadron had been one of the FCU's best aerial units during the war, and naturally one Lensen had worked with plenty of times before.

"Enough bickering everyone. Let's get the prototype back to base." Although SkyEye wasn't above occasional fun, his job was to keep pilots on mission and that was what he was doing. "Change heading for 030 and return to NAS Serenity."

"Understood SkyEye." Lieutenant Pierre, Omega 8, responded. "Mobius 1, we'll escort you back." The escort was just business. The FCU was being very over protective of the one X-02 it'd been able to make from seized design documents- they'd deployed a carrier group into the gulf and marine contingent to the Naval Air Station the Wyvern was being stored at. Despite this, Lensen was the only one allowed to fly it.

They were wanting to test its full capabilities, hence why they'd pitted it against the Osean made F/A-22s- they were the most advanced planes in current Usean stock. So far the X-02 had proved, faster, stealthier, and more maneuverable. That didn't mean anything to Lensen yet; he'd flown the F/A-22 since near the start of the Second Continental War, and he'd used that plane to down 6 Erusian X-02s near the end of Operation Katrina. But still, they needed to see how good this plane really was.

NAS Serenity was the Navy's only air base, located just a few miles back form Port Serenity, which was the Navy's headquarters and only port. Amber was small and its Navy just as small, but before the war funds had been allocated for a squadron of planes for protecting the gulf.

All three planes were directed to land on the base's lone runway and the three craft split up. The FCU planes went to join the rest of their squadron near where the one squadron of F/A-18Cs Amber's Navy had. Lensen instead guided the X-02 over to a new hanger that had just gone up the past month, one guarded by FCU Marines and barbwire fencing.

"You're not gonna tell me you beat our boys again?" The FCU crew chief who watched over the plane asked as Lensen disembarked. He only smirked back in response, and the crew chief shook his head. A jeep waited outside to take him to debriefing, the last task of the day.

It was mostly FCU officers in the room when he arrived, watching replays of the radar data and cameras that had been on the aggressor craft. A few officers from his own country were there too, along with one from San Salvicion's Air Force and some Erusean technicians.

"I suppose you'll chalk this one up to the human factor again, lieutenant colonel?" The Brigadier General who was leading this experiments said by way of greeting. Lensen's ability to defeat the X-02 seemed to be something no other human pilot could do. When they asked him about it, he'd reasoned that since the X-02s he'd fought had been AI controlled, they were easier opponents and X-02 was only impossible in his hands, or any skilled pilot's even.

"Yes sir." Lensen said without a hint of humor in his voice. They worked together well, but it wasn't hard to miss that the FCU was slightly jealous the hero of the war and best pilot was not from their country. The debriefing carried on after that, with the only questions for him or Omega squadron about a few instances where it wasn't quite clear how they were maneuvering. The debriefing done, they were all dismissed.

Lensen had his own room in the base's housing building. But that wasn't where he headed at first. Instead, he went towards the administrative building. There was something there that he'd taken to visiting ever since coming here to conduct these tests, something personal.

It was a monument, one of the hundreds that had sprung up after the war ended. This one was dedicated to the pilots of the 45th Naval Air Squadron who'd attempted to fight off Erusea's naval intrusion into the gulf and been some of the first combat casualties of the war. There were 15 names engraved of the plaque, and only one missing- Lensen's own.

Though now in the Amber Air Force, the 36 year old man's career in flight had started in the Navy. He'd joined during the First Continental War in 1998, right after Amber had been liberated from the Usean Rebel Forces, although the war had ended while he was in training. He and fifteen others had been the pilots who established Amber's Naval Aviation, at first only flying eight old F-4 Phantoms bought from Osea.

But they'd all trained hard, even becoming carrier qualified with FCU cross training. They hadn't been able to stop the meteors, but they'd always stood ready when it looked like to aftermath would start a war. And then it had…

That day was hard to forget. It had been early morning when the squadron was ordered to scramble. Erusea had invaded, and a small flotilla of naval vessels were speeding towards their coast. They were sent out to intercept. Instead, they were jumped by a flight of Erusian MiG-29s just after reaching the coast.

It had been a one-sided massacre. Six of them had been shot down. Lensen's own plane had been hit by one of the Fulcrum's guns that had killed his WSO. Another plane had been so badly damaged that it ended up crashing into the gulf as the last two planes retreated back inland. The only reason they'd survived was the MiGs had been out of ammo and had retreated soon after, although not before Lensen had still managed to hit one with an air-to-air missile- his first kill.

That was the only fighting Amber's Naval Aviation had done. After word of Stonehenge got around, their nation's aerial assets had fled east. Lensen had flown south and landed on the _Fort Grace_ , an FCU carrier that evacuated them out of Stonehenge's range.

But that had been only a setback. From North Point, the allies counter attacked. Lensen had been transferred from Naval Aviation to the ISAF Air Force now flying an F-16 where his remarkable flying skills started to show. And as he gained flight hours and kills, he'd gotten an F/A-22 to fly. And that was what he flew for the rest of the war.

That was the highlight of his life. What he thought of every day. Flying missions for that one year, aiding every ISAF operation, becoming an icon and a hero. His official record stated he had 311 aerial victories. It had been a great feeling, amazing even, to be known by so many and to have so great an impact.

But it had all slowed down after Megalith went. The war was over. It was time for everyone to go home and rebuild. The militaries were downsized and thousands of men and women tried to get back to the lives they'd had before. The FCU though had been smart enough to hold ISAF together for a little while, ensuring at least some parts of the military stayed active until a government got set up in Erusea.

When Operation Katrina had been ordered, he'd gotten to take to the skies once again. Single handed he'd put down the military threat equivalent to that of a small country. It had been him to discover the X-02 and bring the technology back for the allied states to share. But just like Megalith, things had slowed down again afterwards.

ISAF was all dissolved on everything but paper, and the FCU didn't even try to prod the other countries to not cut their militaries. What was the point when all threats from Erusea were eliminated? Amber's parliament hadn't been particularly kind on the defense budget this year. They'd only allocated to the Air Force enough money to maintain three squadrons of fighter craft, one of those being the country's only F/A-22 squadron that he commanded. The only reason these tests were going on was because the FCU volunteered to foot the entire bill.

By no means did he hope for another war. His parents had been killed when Erusea bombed Amber. His memories of the men and women of the 45th squadron continued to stay with him. Many of the dozens of fellow pilots he'd met over the course of the war had died, some the same day he met them. Even now, the continent was rebuilding and dead were being found and buried. War was awful. War was terrible. War was something he would not wish on anyone.

And yet... He couldn't quite shake a feeling of being without purpose. To have climbed so far so fast, to have done so much, to have so many people know who he was… People were probably the worst part of it- always looking at him in awe, expecting something amazing from him when there was no opportunity to do anything at all.

Perhaps it was time to give up his wings? Move on and do something different with his life? He'd thought about it a few times, but every time he got a chance to take to the air again, those thoughts were dismissed almost immediately and for a while he was elated again. He didn't think there was anything he'd ever be able to do.

Funny how the peace was more uncertain than the war.

X February 5th, 2009, Eastern Estovakia X

Of all the branches of the Estovakian military to degrade after the collapse of the main government, the Navy had been the worst. Though not the greatest Navy in the world, it had still been a proud force, including two aircraft carriers. But when the meteors came and the government collapsed, the Navy was cut off from the first day. Many ships were sold to other countries to help pay for rebuilding, and the rest simply left unguarded in ports to gather rust.

The Eastern Faction owed part of its success directly to the naval power it had scraped together after the civil war began. They'd managed to recover one aircraft carrier, twelve surface ships, and even a submarine. It was not that they had the only naval forces- the other factions had utilized smaller, cheaper gun and missile boats- but the Eastern Faction's was the farthest reaching and the most powerful warships to complement its own gun and missile boats.

Control over the sea was important- with Emmerian supplies crossing the border growing smaller by the day, all weapons and goods had to come in by boat. The Eastern Faction had the ability to intercept these shipments and ensure their rivals were always at a disadvantage. The carrier also allowed them increased strike capabilities all over the country, although its air wing was understaffed and the ship often had to make port from lack of fuel.

Lorenz Riedel was one of those few pilots that stepped off the carrier when it made port yet again after only seven days out at sea. He was the most unusual of the lot though, and not just because he was the oldest at 42. He was not Estovakian- he was Belkan. When the Eastern Faction sustained itself on patriotism and used the use of foreign mercenaries by the other factions as a propaganda, that fact was not only surprising, but even suspect.

But he was more than allowed there. After the ship carrying them had arrived, the military officers leading the Eastern Faction had been almost ecstatic with the wealth of information they'd brought. They'd shown less enthusiasm when several of the former soldiers, including Riedel, volunteered to fight, but they'd still been interested in having veteran pilots of what had been the world's mightiest air force.

Why had they volunteered? All of them were career soldiers- it had always been in their blood for generations. There was nothing else they could do. The call of battle was too much for them to do anything else in life.

Another part was ideals. They'd all been on the run for a reason, a cause really, almost a decade past now. A World With No Boundaries. To the men and women who'd joined the group from half a dozen nations, they'd been the good guys. Enlightened heroes who sought to end all war and bring peace to the world. To the rest of the world, Osea particularly, they were nothing but terrorists, and their cause had been crushed and the survivors now hunted.

But they had survived, as did the ideas that had made them let go of their ties to their home countries. To them, they still thought they could make a difference. They genuinely believed that coming to the Eastern Faction was a noble choice- to help end a war and the suffering of many by helping unite the country under a single, stable leadership.

The few of them that were pilots had another, more sub-conscious reason: _Him_. That man…that being…That remarkable pilot that had first taken on their country and then their ideals. The Demon Lord. There was no guarantee he was even here- he'd probably earned more than enough to live a life of luxury for the rest it his own. But from the day they'd heard about the increase in foreign mercenaries in the conflict, the thought had existed in their minds.

The scientists had been swept away to a coastal research facility not long after arriving. He'd yet to see them, but one had sent him a letter about how ambitious these Estovakians were. Another of their group, a decorated former paratrooper of the Belkan Army, was training Eastern Faction soldiers in airborne operations. Riedel had wrote him, but had yet to get a response. Six others were pilots in the Eastern Faction's Air Force, and arguably the best. He'd meet with them occasionally and have drinks.

Riedel himself was a pilot for the Eastern Faction's Navy, flying an SU-33D they'd provided for him. Their carrier was a mismatch of old and new planes. There was little organization in the aircraft save for one squadron-Strigon Team, a squadron who reminded him eerily of the one he'd been a part of in the Belkan Air Force with their sharp flying and amazing lethality. But they were rotated off the carrier to land quite frequently, and in those times Riedel found himself taking charge of the fourteen other aircraft on the carrier.

After so many years on the run though, he was glad to be flying again. He was glad to be fighting. He was glad to see that his actions improved the conditions of those brought down by war.

Not that things improved too much. The civil war had done little to fix what had caused it, and walking through the city Lorenz could see most of the buildings boarded up or in disrepair. He bought some bread from a bakery as he passed it and handed it over to some homeless children the next street over. No, there was much still to be done. But done it would be when the civil war ended.

There were some little cafes tucked away in one of the side streets, and he would visit them often whenever the carrier came to port. He'd make a point to visit a different one every time, just to help stimulate the economy for these people. He'd sat down in the outdoor section of one and ordered some Tyurya soup.

It didn't take him long to notice a pretty woman sitting at a nearby table looking at him. When he looked back, she smiled and stood up. Riedel ginned to himself as she walked over and sat down. But then she spoke two words, and his blood turned to ice.

"Gault 7." What disturbed him more than the women knowing his old squadron and call sign was that it was said in a Belkan accent. His hand twitched towards his sidearm. His own country hated those who'd deserted just as much as the Oseans. He had reason to be wary.

"And you are?" He asked. His own accent had probably faded in recent months of speaking Estovakian, but he certainly remembered his old language.

"You're a long way from home." She commented, not answering his question and still smiling pleasantly.

"I've not been to the _Vaterland_ in over ten years." Riedel shook his head.

"Would you like to go back?" She asked, surprising him. It had to be a trap; even the pacifist Belkan government had warrants out for all former members of AWWNB. "You are a very skilled man, Captain Riedel. You could help your country become great again."

"Who are you?" He asked again.

"Patriots fighting to restore our country to its rightful place." She finally told him, and his gaze hardened. Hardliners. War mongers who couldn't accept defeat. The same people who'd led the country into a war they couldn't win. The same people who'd dropped nuclear weapons on their own people. The same people he'd left all those years ago.

"I think," He unholstered his sidearm- an old Makarov pistol- and set it on the table. "you should leave." With that action, her pretty smile turned to an ugly scowl and she gave up all civility.

"Cowards and thieves. The whole lot of you." She muttered. "Crawling to the first drunk peasants who'd take you in."

"We are helping these people." Riedel defended. The woman just looked more disgusted and stood.

"When Belka takes its place in the world, you will all still be stuck here, never to taste Belkan glory."

"It will not happen." Riedel stated with certainty. "If you people are the same as the last war, the result will be exactly the same. I will not help bring more suffering onto the world." She didn't respond to that. She just looked at him in disgust and stormed away.

Lorenz Riedel let out the breath he'd been holding and quickly stood. His feet started carrying him back to the carrier at a faster pace then he'd left it, his mind imagining the barbed wire fencing around the port and the gun-toting soldiers standing guard outside of it. But he was also thinking about the writing supplies in his berthing. He had letters to write, quite a few actually.

X February 21st, 2010, Race Conquest Fleet X

Fleetlord Atvar was perplexed, surprised, and possibly even worried. Being awoken early alone was a cause for the first two- The Race was a very orderly society and changes in plans, especially plans that were so old, was almost unheard of. But he was the highest authority, so all important matters went straight to him.

He was Fleetlord of the Conquest Fleet, the third such Fleet in The Race's long and proud history. Over 30 million males were directly subordinate to him. It was an incredible position in the Race's society, just below the 2 Viceroys who ruled Helless 1 and Rabotev 2, the two planets the Race had previously conquered and added to their empire. And now Atvar had been chosen to add another: Tosev 3.

He had studied the planet for some time after receiving the post. It was peculiar in its geography, unusually different to Home and the other planets in the Empire. Most of it was water- Oceans and lakes. The other planets were mostly desert and less than 20% water. By comparison, 60% of Tosev 3 seemed to be water, most of it separating the five continental landmasses from each other. The weather was for more varied there too- colder than anywhere on the other planets, but still having deserts.

The inhabitants of the planet were strange to him as well. The Race, Helless, and Rabotev were all short reptilian beings. Tosev 3, aside from hosting a far wider range of lifeforms then all three of the Empire's planets combined, seemed to be dominated by tall, multi-colored fleshy bipedal beings. The probes that had been sent a millennium ago had only picked up their appearance though- further information on them would have to wait till they were observed by Race scientists traveling with the Fleet.

But the probe had confirmed that they were at a very low level of technology, still using swords and shields of all things. They would be an easy conquest against The Race's advanced military, and the Colonization Fleet due to arrive in a short 40 years would have no trouble setting up a proper civilization on the planet. That was what the planners had been confident in when preparations began a few centuries ago.

But the situation now was very much different then what had been expected.

He'd been somewhat irritable through his checkups, wondering what could drive the lower ranking males to make such a decision. Any drowsiness he may have had was immediately dispelled when he questioned an obviously skittered technician on what had prompted them to wake him. The answer had, at the time, been the most outlandish thing Atvar had ever heard: That the Fleet was intercepting electronic signals originating from Tosev 3.

His skepticism was well founded; for such signals to even exist, the Tosevites would have had to have electricity, communication technology, and many other advancements they couldn't have possibly had achieved in a mere 900 years. It wasn't until they actually showed him the intercepts, a collection of strange sounds and images, that the Fleetlord realized what they was saying was completely true.

Atvar had immediately ordered the entire Fleet to be awoken early and his 2nd and 3rd in Commands to be sent to him as soon as they were past the necessary medical checkups-all but a skeleton crews had been awake during the entire journey from Home. The full crew of his Starship were not up yet, so he retired instead to his personal quarters to personally examine the signals that had been picked up.

Technicians and scientists were being awakened first to go over and examine the intercepted matter. Atvar was hoping they'd be able to make for more sense of the random collection of sounds and images. He didn't understand any of what was being spoken, but some of the images made sense to him- the formats were surprisingly similar to shows and news reports he'd seen on TV back on Home- The Race's and the Emperor's home planet.

Most shocking of all though was what appeared in a few intercepted images- military equipment. Landcruisers, troop carriers, killercraft- what they were was undeniable, even though there oddly seemed to be a variety of them (The Race was very homogenous in the equipment it used). There were images of fighting too, highly destructive fighting The Race had obviously not seen in a very long time, if ever.

Somehow, the natives of this planet appeared to haves experienced an extreme and unfathomable technological growth. Not only that, but they were split into groups and fighting each other. Such had been a reality in the long and distant history of Home, but they'd been unified from before reaching their current level of technology. But these Tosevites…

A knock on Atvar's door tore him from his musing. "Enter." He hissed. The door slid open and in walked Kirel, Shiplord of the Starship Atvar was commanding from and thus 2nd in Command of the whole Fleet as well as an aide. His body paint, the means by which The Race used to denote rank or occupation, conveyed this by being split between elaborate Shiplord paint, and the extremely elaborate body paint of a Fleetlord, like what Atvar was wearing.

"Exhalted Fleetlord." Kirel bowed respectfully upon entering. "I did not expect to be awoken so early. Has an issue arisen?"

"Yes, Kirel. A potentially very serious issue." Atvar answered reluctantly and stepped to the side so his subordinate could see the intercepted images. Kirel looked at them curiously, unsure at first what they were.

"Are those…Tosevites?" He finally questioned. He'd studied the pictures the probes had brought back as well.

"They appear to be." Atvar confirmed. "The crews had intercepted these and audio signals originating from Tosev 3."

"Impossible." Kirel said quickly. His response was understandable. Again, 900 years in The Race's time wasn't likely to see much change or advancement. Atvar would've continued, but a buzzer indicated there was someone else at his door. When he called them to enter, he realized it was Straha.

Straha was the Shiplord of the Starship 206th Emperor Yower, and third in command overall of the Fleet. Atvar did not hold too positive an opinion of the male. He was outspoken, he was unconventional, and was completely unique next to the rest of their society- not a good trait at all. Why the committees planning the invasion had chosen him for the post escaped Atvar.

"Exhalted Fleetlord." He greeted Atvar just as Kirel had.

"Straha." Personal feelings aside, they were both professional males in service of their Emperor and would act like it. "As I was just telling Kirel, there has been…an unforeseen change in our plans." He showed him the images and informed him of the signals.

"Impossible." As radical as Straha was, even he was in disbelief.

"That is not the worst part." Atvar used a finger claw to bring up the images and short scenes of the military equipment. Both his subordinates hissed in disbelief at what they saw.

"Are we sure these are not just a prank some males came up with over the journey?" Straha questioned. Atvar hadn't considered such a thing- he didn't think his fellow males capable of such. No, he was certain they wouldn't do something like that in a situation so serious.

"I'm certain. Although these are just a few scattered pieces of information. Once the appropriate males are awake, I intend to send what probes we have to look at the planet again and take long range photographs. Hopefully they will shed light on what we are seeing."

"But what does this mean for the conquest?" Straha demanded, a sign of disrespect.

"The plan has not changed." Atvar informed them. "The ships are still travelling to Tosev 3 at a reduced speed, although I have chosen to wake everyone early. I will make a more informed decision when I have a proper understanding of what is going on. The Emperor," All three cast their eye turrets down at the mention of their Sovereign, "has ordered us to colonize this planet, and I still intend to do that if possible."

"What shall we do in the meantime, Exalted Fleetlord?" Kirel questioned. His question gave Atvar pause as he realized his order to wake the fleet early started from a moment of confusion and initially only to bring more mind power onto the issue. But with new information not guaranteed for some time, the point was now moot.

"Assist me to bring the fleet up to full staff and awareness, and go over our resources and equipment. If something requires our attention, I want us to be able to do so immediately." He decided.

"It shall be done." Kirel answered without hesitation. Straha was not so quick to imitate. Both his eye turrets seemed to regard Atvar for a few moments before he too answered just as Kirel had done. Atvar noticed, but didn't comment on it next to his other concerns. Both subordinates were released and he turned back to the holo-image projector.

"Perplexing." He said to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

XX A/N XX

I guess I should also state some facts will be changed in canon happenings for the sake of a sense of realism. This chapter is largely a cliff note version of AC5. Also, has anyone realized how fast AC5 takes place? It took ISAF a year to march across Usea. Yuktobania's bigger and Osea marched across that in two months.

X

March 3rd, 2010: Yuktobania finalizes its complete invasion plan for Osea, to be carried out near the end of the year with the intention of occupying the Osean Capital of Oured by January next year. The first stage of the plan has two main goals.

The destruction of the Osean Naval Self Defense Force's 3rd Fleet, responsible for the country's west coast. Special attention is to be given to the three carriers of the fleet: the _Kestral, Buzzard,_ and _Vulture_.

The neutralization/capture of Sand Island Air Base, a Osean Air Self Defense Force base located in the Ceres Ocean several miles away from the mainland and the closest air base to Yuktobania. Plans are make to capture it to use as a springboard for invading the mainland.

March 16th: Race probes arrive close enough to begin recording images of the Arkbird, ISS, and another set of pictures of the planet surface to send back to the Race Conquest Fleet. The probes are mistaken as asteroids and go unnoticed by the nations on the ground. The images that are relayed back prove extremely shocking to The Race. It is decided that the probes will stay hidden in orbit once they arrive and transmit as much intelligence as possible back while the Conquest Fleet approaches.

May 1st, 2010: With violence escalating, Emmeria ceases its aid to the various Estovakian factions. The Eastern Faction continues to gain ground as it and rival factions join with smaller factions to consolidate their power. Conditions in areas controlled by the Eastern Faction start to improve. A report suggests the Aerial Fleet initiative will be complete by late 2011.

July 7th, 2010: With training complete, all X-02s purchased and delivered are put into Yuktobanian Air Force service. The country also finds some success in manufacturing parts for the ADF-01, although a functional unit isn't expected till December.

September 23th, 2010: During an early morning exercise, the Osean 118th Tactical Fighter Squadron 'Wardog', a training squadron based on Sand Island, is attacked by unmarked Yuktobanian aircraft over the Ceres Ocean. The attack results in deaths on both sides and leaves the squadron with only 4 active pilots, three of them trainees.

The next day, a Yuktobanian spy plane enters Osean air space but is hit by Coastal Defense Force SAMs and retreats. Wardog pursues the craft, but is attacked by more unmarked Yuktobanian aircraft. All of them are shot down. This and the earlier incident are classified.

September 27th, 2010: Rather than risk more aircraft, Yuktobania dispatches a recon ship equipped with UAVs to scout Sand Island. All are shot down at the cost of one Osean plane and pilot, who is captured. Fearful of losing the element of surprise after so many blunders, Yuktobania declares war against Osea and initiates its First Strike plan.

After a day of fighting, the plan fails to meet any of its goals. Though two dozen surface warships are sunk, Yuktobania fails to destroy any of the 3rd Fleet's carriers at the cost of over 50 of its own aircraft and several ships. A late night raid on Sand Island by stealth bombers fails to eliminate the base. Yuktobanian Generals meet to re-discuss their invasion plan.

September 28th, 2010: As an international effort, the Arkbird and ISS see no conflict. However, all countries quickly pull out following the declaration of war. The partially constructed ISS is left abandoned, and all non-Osean persons are sent back to earth.

September 30th, 2010: Osea decides to move its carriers into its inland sea to protect them from further attack. The Yuktobanian _Scinfaxi_ , already hidden in the inland sea as part of Yuktobania's now defunct invasion plan, launches aircraft and burst missiles, destroying two of the three carriers and even more of Osea's surface fleet.

October 3rd, 2010: Osea decides to weaponize and deploy the Arkbird, now solely an Osean craft, to counter the submarine, as was its original purpose. Yuktobania gets wind of the effort and deploys airborne troops and bombers to the Basset Space center. Despite damaging the center, the Mass Driver survives and a laser system is sent to the Arkbird for use.

October 10th, 2010: With the Scinfaxi in support and most of Osea's 3rd Fleet finally reduced, Yuktobania launches an amphibious assault on Sand Island, now defended by a reinforced Wardog Squadron. After they sink part of the Yuke fleet, the Scinfaxi attempts to eliminate them with burst missiles, but is intercepted by the Arkbird, which later damages the sub and forces it to surface where it is sunk by Wardog. The tattered remains of the Yuktobanian fleet return home.

October 11th-18th, 2010: The drums of war fade as Yuktobania realizes it was lost over 40,000 personnel in only a few days without accomplishing a single objective. With the Arkbird is orbit to dissuade further attacks, and unofficial cease fire takes hold. Osean President Vincent Harling offers peace negotiations to Yuktobania.

Frustrated with this turn of events, the Grey Men meet to discuss their plans. After the opening period, Yuktobania is completely incapable of invading Osea. President Harling's peace offer also gets to them. Determined not to let the war end early, the Grey Men decide to get rid of Harling and push Osea to invade Yuktobania, believing they will bleed themselves dry on the Yuktobanian mainland.

Discussions are held about retrieving a stockpile of V-1 Tactical Nukes hidden after the last war, but the Grey Men decide the step isn't necessary yet.

October 22nd, 2010: President Harling departs for neutral North Point for negotiations, and his flight plan is leaked to Yuktobania's military government. Three squadrons are sent to down the transport. By chance though, the plane transporting him is found and escorted by Wardog squadron, who fight off the aggressors.

The plane is forced to make a crash landing however, and Belkan cells in the Osean Military recover him. He is imprisoned in southern Belka and the Vice President and Chiefs of Staff take over Osea, dissatisfied with Harling's peaceful track record, and begin planning a counter attack. As the peace offering was not made publically, the population goes unaware of this.

October 23rd: 2010: By this point, The Race have established a nearly perfect map of national boundaries on the planet. The Circum-Pacific War and Estovakian Civil War are also known to The Race as its analysists go over hours of intercepted combat footage. Seeing the native's military equipment in action (not to mention effective) proves extremely worrying. Furthermore, after witnessing Yuktobania and Osea's powerful manufacturing capability, Atvar begins to seriously considering calling off the conquest.

October 25th, 2010: The Arkbird is damaged by an explosive device planted in a supply ship by Grey Men agents. The blast does not destroy the spacecraft, but does disable the weapon system and its ability to move. Osean military planners decide to put more effort into a conventional war against Yuktobania than repair it. The Grey Men make plans to take over the Arkbird, just in case.

November 1st, 2010: Operation Footprint: A regiment of Osean Marines land on the hilly Bastok Peninsula in southern Yuktobania to establish a beachhead with aid from the Air Force. Though Marine aircraft distinguish themselves, particular notice is given to Wardog squadron, who were largely responsible for destroying Yuktobania's ground fortifications. Osean Divisions are sent to the new beachhead while retreating Yuktobanian forces are shot down trying to flee.

Intending to further inflame tensions, a Grey Men cell in the OADF attacks a Yuktobania civilian complex around the same time, which invites a Yuktobanian terror attack in Osea days later.

The invasion and transfer of forces is noticed by The Race, who are particularly surprised by Osea's successful amphibious assault and use of warships.

November 7th, 2010: A series of protests break out in the countries of the eastern Osean continent. Protests are largest in Ustio and Sapin, upset that Yuktobania, a country that aided them during the Belkan War, has been invaded. Other than voice concerns, the tiny countries cannot do much to dissuade Osea from its warpath.

November 10th: Fearful of the wars enveloping the rest of the world, the FCU organizes a massive military exercise with the other nations of Usea, including Erusea, to ensure the protection of the continent's sovereignty. They are scheduled to take place for the first two weeks of December.

November 13th, 2010: Yuktobania orders the _Hrimfaxi_ , sister ship to _Scinfaxi_ , to bombard the Osean Beachhead from the Razgriz Straits north of Anea. Wardog squadron is dispatched the next day and manage to locate and sink the massive warship. Their destructive power, combined with the location of the operation, earn the squadron the nickname 'Demons of Razgriz',

November 14th-26th, 2010: Osean forces drive deep into Yuktobania, intent of quickly capturing the Capital of Cinigrad to end the war. These efforts of largely and publicly aided by Wardog squadron, who have been elevated to a level of fame similar to Usean Ace Mobius 1.

November 19th: In an emergency meeting, the Grey Men meet to discuss Osea's extremely alarming march across Yuktobania. The focus of the meeting is quickly put towards the famous Wardog Squadron or 'Razgriz' as they've come to be known. The Grey Men resolve that Osea cannot win the war, and decide destroying the squadron will go a long ways towards breaking and demoralizing Osea's forces.

In case Osea's gains prove impossible to reverse, it is decided to excavate the hidden V-1s. The same day brings news of the successful takeover of the Arkbird. The Grey Men investigate the possibility of using it to repair the SOLG- an abandoned orbital bombardment weapon Osea had started to develop during the Belkan War.

November 21st: Amateur astronomers begin noticing signs of the Race Conquest Fleet, as do some of the smaller governments on the planet. The sightings go largely unnoticed or investigated as the world is gripped by the Circum-Pacific War and the prospect of Osea becoming the planet's sole Superpower.

November 29th, 2010: The Grey Men, through use of cells in both militaries, organize a massive Yuktobanian airstrike on November City, where the Osean leadership will be giving a speech. The area will be patrolled by Wardog squadron and Yuktobania and the Grey Men hope both will be wiped out and cripple Osea's efforts.

Wardog Squadron somehow fight off the massive force at the loss of only one of their members. The Osean leadership escape unharmed. The Grey Men meet yet again to discuss the issue.

November 31st, 2010: Slight defensive modifications are made to the Arkbird. The Grey Men now have complete, albeit secret, control of the Mass Driver. Work resumes on the nearly completed SOLG, with supplies sent directly to the station.

December 1st: 2010: On the 127th _Emperor Hetto_ , the Bannership of the Conquest Fleet, Fleetlord Atvar makes a decision and calls together the other Shiplords to announce whether or not an invasion will be carried out. At its current speed, the Fleet is expected to be visible from the planet surface in seven days. Within nine days, they will be able to land troops on the planet.

XX A/N XX

And this is where I stop. I typed up these three chapters in my spare time, and no others are prepared. I want to see if there's any real interest in these niche categories before I continue on.


	4. Chapter 4

XX A/N XX

Vague geography ahead. Anea is the only continent with a complete map and countries marked out. We at least know what countries are on Usea. But there's five named countries near Yuktobania and about ten smaller ones around it that aren't named. And there's three countries between Osea and Leasath and Aurelia.

Fun fact- Blaze's head can be seen in one of the cutscenes in game that proves he was black hair. Most we've ever seen of a PS2 era protagonist.

Some people might gawk at the number of fighters I gave The Race, so let me explain how I got close to my number. Between the Air Force (Nat. Guard included), Marines, and Navy, the US has about 2000 fighters. This to about 1,300,000 personnel in the Army and Marines. I simply scaled the numbers up to the Race's number of ground forces.

X November 30th, 2010. Southern Yuktobania. X

"Shit, shit, shit!" The Osean infantryman swore as mortars exploded around him, throwing up showers of dirt. Private Willian Guzzo was, to use one of the less offensive words in military jargon, fresh. His division- the 9th Infantry Division, the thirteenth Osean Army division to deploy to Yuktobania- had only arrived in country a week ago.

It was part of the southern front, along with the 2nd Marine Division and 6th Infantry Division, which was tasked with pacifying southern Yuktobania and securing its border with its three southern neighbors: the nation of Verusa, the Republic of Kaluga, and the People's Republic of Romny. The city of Gunizudo was the primary objective, being the main economic hub between Yuktobania and these three nations.

The Verusan and Kaluga borders had already been secured by the 6th Division, leaving only Romny's border and Gunizudo to secure. That's why the 9th was brought in- to secure the border with Romny and aid the Marines attacking Gunizudo from the north by attacking from the south. The 3rd Brigade, of which Guzzo was a member of Alpha Company, Second Battalion, was the unit ordered to circle around and strike the southern flank.

That had meant driving through the Yuktobanian countryside. Wide open fields, in other words. Osean air cover was sparser in this part of the country, which explained why Yuktobanian bombers had managed to decimate the convoy he was in. The strike had brought two whole companies to a halt, and the survivors were forced to scramble soon after as Yuktobanian A-10s arrived to finish the job.

They certainly lived up to their reputation, although Guzzo would've preferred to be on the other end. To make matters even worse, mortars had started coming from their right- the same direction Guzzo had fled in.

"Oof!" In his swerving motions to avoid being hit, he'd ending falling into a ditch. The shallow water wasn't as bad as the 52 degrees weather that made standing up nearly unbearable.

"Nice landing!" Someone shouted, and Guzzo raised his head to see another soldier further down the ditch. He stumbled over. "You alright?" The same soldier, a corporal, asked.

"Well," Guzzo was well known in his unit for keeping a sense of humor and his mouth moving no matter what situation they were in, "I wish I'd taken my old man's advice and gone to college instead of joining up straight outta high school." It had been a whim choice, confident in his ability to collect a free paycheck twice a month for a few years since the world was all quiet. "You Alpha?"

"Nah, B Company. Corporal Featon." He pronounced it 'fate-on'.

"Private Guzzo." Both men hit the dirt when a lucky mortar shell landed in the ditch a ways down, spraying water over them.

"Private, you have any idea where those mortars are?" Guzzo shook his head. "Shit. Let's just keep our asses parked till it passes." That's what they'd been told before hand- Yuktobanian forces in this sector were more often than not just conducting hit and run attacks. They didn't have many forces down these ways, mostly second line motor-rifle divisions.

End it eventually did, although both riflemen stayed put until they heard their comrades up and about. As it turned out, neither had made it very far from the road where both company's humvess and trucks sat in flames. Dozens of other men were coming up from wherever they'd just gone flat on the ground and hoped to not get hit.

Guzzo only recognized one other person, PFC Nichols, another rifleman in his squad. He couldn't spot anyone else though. He'd been gathered with all eight of them right until the A-10s came and they scattered. From the looks of it, a lot of units seemed to be missing people.

A surviving lieutenant managed to rally whoever survived to set up a perimeter while helicopters from the division came to pick them up. Total casualties across both companies were 131: 84 dead, 33 wounded, and the rest missing. It was, for many of them, their first taste of combat.

And what a bitter taste it was.

X December 1st, 2010. 127th _Emperor Hetto_. X

The Conquest was to go ahead as planned, or under modified plans anyway. It had not been an easy decision to make, and it was a decision made on reasons Atvar had never anticipated he'd he to confront. It wasn't hard for any other male to see their leader's mental state had changed in the recent months.

Tosev 3 was part of it. Despite so many similarities to The Race's own society, a lot of it deviated from all forms of common sense and knowledge The Race had accumulated over its vast history. Its Empires were capable of reaching space, but were still separated and fighting among each other. Its rate of technological growth was still incomprehensible. And what social habits the probes had picked up made absolutely no sense to even the Fleet's scientists. To males who'd lived their lives in perfect order and confidence in the natural state of all of existence, it was maddening to take in.

Some days leading up to their arrival, Atvar had completely forgotten the original reason they'd been sent to this planet. The more intercepted images they got, the more Atvar was convinced there was more to lose than just a new planet for their Empire if he turned around. The Tosevites were violent, they grew technologically at an extreme rate, and they were already grasping at the basics of space technology.

They were a threat, or at least could very well become one shortly at the pace they were going.

That idea was perhaps the most unbelievable to come to any male's mind in centuries. The Race had enjoyed complete control and prosperity over the known universe for thousands of years. But should another species take to the stars, something Tosevites certainly seemed capable of, all that would be threatened, and by extension The Race itself would be threatened.

It was with that thought at the front of his mind that Atvar made the decision to continue with the Conquest and started drawing a new plan. Even with how advanced the Tosevites were, Atvar remained confident his forces were capable enough to wrest control of the planet from them. They had the advantage of numbers. Their forces were unified in a single command whereas the Tosevite nations weren't, and thus less effective in organizing a planet-wide defense.

There was the issue of logistics though. The fleet had brought plenty of munitions with it, but as many targets as there now were, they'd go through it fast. The Fleet had factory ships that could convert raw resources into equipment for their forces to use, but only on a small scale that wouldn't support even a tenth of their total forces if they in constant fighting.

To that regard, Atvar had looked to the Tosevites themselves. They seemed to have as much industrial capacity on this planet as there was on Home. If his forces could capture some, an easy task considering a lot of it seemed undefended at the moment, and destroy the rest, success was certain.

There were other issues, most of all being the weather on some parts of the planet seemed atrocious at this time of its rotation about the sun. But if the Tosevites could survive and fight in such conditions, surely The Race could as well.

Another, slightly more disturbing thing they'd learned was that the planet had survived meteor impacts only a short time ago. It wasn't surprising, given how cluttered this solar system seemed to those of the other planets in the Empire. But even that event had had an astronomically small chance of happening, and a repeat even more so. The planet could still be colonized.

It was possible. And even though all three species in the Empire depending on certainty more than possibilities, possible was the best answer in this scenario. It could work. The Race would make it work. They _had_ to make it work.

Atvar had likely made his decision earlier, but it was only then that he was resolute enough in it to call the shiplords together and inform them of it. By the time they'd all arrived at the Bannership, Atvar knew it was too late to go back. From here, it was either success of failure. Even in the unlikely event of the later, Atvar could at least be glad in the fact the Tosevite's growth would be stunted long enough to warn the rest of the Empire.

"In spite of these…troubling developments, I have decided we will continue with the Conquest as the Emperor has ordered us." All present cast their eyes to the ground. "Remember: We are The Race. We control an Empire stretching across the star. These Tosevites are only one planet. Even less, they are factions on one planet. We are far more powerful than they could ever hope to be!"

"Truth." Several shiplords agreed at once.

"I will admit some of their advancements are…troubling." An image came up on the holo-projector of two artificial structures in orbit above the planet. One appeared to be an observation station of some sort, although in an incompleted state. The other appeared to be a incomplete giant cannon suspended in orbit, something unfathomable in size or concept for The Race. Unlike the first structure, there seemed to be Tosevites working on the second, which meant they were trying to complete whatever it was. "Stamping out what little progress they have made in space will be simple; we can capture these structures by use of shuttlecraft."

"This orbital craft they call the... 'Arkbird' is only an unarmed experiment from what we tell and will be no issue." Atavr went on, referring to the great white ship they'd seen around the planet. "The planet surface itself…will be more difficult."

"But a plan to compensate for that has been made, Exhalted Fleetlord?" Straha spoke up, an act that earned him surprised glances from the other shiplords. Atvar hid his annoyance. Of course Straha would speak up; he wanted to claim responsibility for the role he'd had in said plan. Atvar still remembered the conversation the two males had had after Straha came to visit the Fleetlord.

X A week ago X

"If I may, Fleetlord?" Straha bowed respectfully.

"Proceed." Atvar granted. Straha was an unconventional male, but Atvar had grown weary in recent days of other shiplords confidently dismissing such monumental changes and insisting The Race was more than capable of easy subjecting the natives. Hearing something different would be a break.

"Have you considered using our stockpile of explosive metal bombs?" He asked, referring to the powerful and terrible explosives carried by the fleet. No male had seriously considered they'd be needed, given the technological inferiority of the previous conquests. It was a matter of norms, just like why they'd brought so many tanks and killercraft against an expected weak foe: They were going for a war, so they prepared for every possible aspect of war.

"In a…unconventional way, should I decide to go through with the invasion." Atvar responded. In the past weeks of reading hundreds of reports and theories by scientists and analysists daily and trying to come up with some possible plan of success, the Fleetlord had been under great stress and some very disturbing and unconventional thoughts had crossed his mind.

In a few fleeting moments of tiredness, the idea had briefly crossed his mind of just using the Fleet's entire stock on the planet and leave it, telling the Colonization Fleet behind them to turn back. No trying to wrap their heads around the mysterious Tosevites, no worry about males dying in a war that would certainly cause death, and no more worrying about the threat this planet could pose to The Empire. But that was unrealistic- they only had enough bombs to completely devastate the landmass called Usea, and maybe have a few left over. That realization had been part of the reason Atvar realized only an invasion stood a chance of preventing the natives from becoming a threat.

"Detonating them in the atmosphere would create an EMP effect that would destroy their electronics." Atvar explained. "This should weaken them enough that our forces can defeat them, and we do not damage the planet for the Colonization Fleet." Straha nodded in agreement as he spoke, but had more to say.

"Fleetlord, have you yet seen the Tosevite explosive metal bombs?" He asked, and Atvar had to avoid hissing in annoyance. He'd seen that recording: seven explosive metal bombs all going off together. It did not appear to have occurred during the current conflicts on the planet, but rather one in their history. He knew, but he did not like it.

"Yes. What are you attempted to convey, Straha?" Atvar questioned.

"Our scientists are quite certain that the natives reacted very negatively to this event. It even stopped that war. If we were to deploy our own against their forces, they would surrender quickly just as they did in that last war." He explained.

"And we wouldn't have to contaminate the planet too badly." Straha went on. "This Empire…Osssea." He pronounced the name carefully. Though they introduced their language, customs, and government to their subjects, The Race did not tend to change the names of the local areas. "All their forces are not there, and would quickly fall apart when we captured the land supplying them. Surely you've considered this?"

"I have." Atvar confirmed. He'd seen it as an alternative to facing their military forces, which seemed quite large compared to other empires on the planet. They would capture their industrial areas as well, a very important gain. As long as they destroyed those boats they were using, he didn't have to worry about the forces coming back either. That was curious still, using boats in a military role.

"That still leaves the other major Tosevite power…Yuk..to...bania." Straha had to take his time to say it. Such an unusual language these natives spoke in, or some of the languages anyway; there seemed to be dozens. "Many of their military forces are massed near Osea's. Were we to drop one or maybe two explosive metal bombs, we'd deal severe casualties to both their forces. The two strongest powers on the planet, eliminated as a threat at the cost of only a very small area made radioactive."

Atvar considered it for a few brief moments, his tail stump twitching in agitation as he realized Straha made a very good, if radical, plan. Atvar already planned on ordering bombings of Tosevite cities to lower their morale, but this idea also had merit. The ends were tempting, very tempting. But Atvar had no desire to immediately subjugate himself.

"I'll consider your proposal, Shiplord. You are dismissed." Atvar sent him off. Straha bowed his head and departed, probably already knowing even then he'd have his way.

X Present X

"I repeat, this is only a limited deployment of our explosive metal bombs." Atvar stressed. A few of the shiplords seemed to approve of the idea. Most, however, seemed surprised. Atvar pushed on with the meeting. "I do not want to delay any longer, so our starships will be landing as soon as it is safely practicable. Our invasion plan is as follows."

There were several types of starships in the fleet for various purposes, and two that carried the Race's troops. One was a killercraft carrying ship, of which there were 80 in the Fleet. Each one carried approximately 600 killercraft, 200 transport craft and 50 refueling craft and was capable of launching them and picking them up in high orbit. This would be necessary at first until appropriate air bases could be set up on the surface. The second carried the ground troops of The Race. One ship carried 60,000 males, 900 land cruisers, 1800 troopcarriers, and 600 helicopters organized into six equal 'Large Combat Groups' that included combat and support forces.

"Our killercraft carrying ships will enter orbit first. This…'Arkbird' is within the range of some killercraft weapons, and can be destroyed. All of our killercraft will descend from orbit and strike Tosevite targets…including using the explosive metal bombs… before the starships carrying our ground forces land. More precise targets will be distributed after the meeting. Based on the geography and military strength of the Empires, I've come up with a new plan of force deployment." Atvar waved at a technician, who replaced the image on the projector to the plan he'd crafted over the past twenty revelations of the planet.

The map showed the four inhabited continental landmasses, the borders of the countries on each, and the starships and number of Race forces to be deployed on each. 900,000 infantry males were dedicated to the continent 'Usea', as well as 4,800 killercraft. More than half of those were dedicated to the Empire referred to as 'FCU', given its military strength. One starship was to land on 'North Point', and conquer that. None of the other islands were under consideration; they were seen as of little military importance.

The continent of 'Anea' had been marked with 1,200,000 infantry males and 5,400 killercraft. Half of those forces were delegated to the smaller eastern Empire 'Estovakia' due to the horrific violence taking place there now. 390,000 were tasked with the Empire called 'Emmeria', including a large island that was apparently part of it. The rest of the troops were to take the last Empire on the landmass: Nordennavic, or the largest islands of it anyway.

The map differentiated the continent called 'Osea' and the Empire of the same name. A whole 3,000,000 infantry males was tasked for the continent along with 9,600 killercraft, 2,100,000 and 6,600 of those to the Empire Osea itself despite being undefended. 600,000 males and 1,800 killercraft were tasked for the smaller Empires north and east of Osea: 'Wellow, Belka, Ustio, Sapin, Recta, Gebet, Fato, Ratio, Wielvakia, and Nordlands'. The rest was to land in the southern Empires of 'Leasath' and 'Aurelia' and work their way north to conquer all five countries south of Osea.

The entirety of the remaining forces, nearly 9 million infantry males, were tasked to subjugate the final continental mass- Verusa. Five million infantry males and 12,000 killercraft alone were to land in the Empire 'Yuktobania', since it was the site of the most violence on the planet. Two groups of two million males and 1,200 killercraft were to land west and south of Yuktobania and conquer the smaller countries there.

The assembled shiplords all looked at the map displayed on the holo-projector or examined it more closely on personal information devices. Atvar watched them and waited to see if any would ask questions or bring a matter up. Truthfully, even he could see flaws in his own plan- he worried he was not deploying enough forces to successful occupy the smaller Empires.

"Fleetlord." A shiplord of one of the killercraft carrying ships spoke up, sounding cautious- questioning a superior's plan was also rare in The Race. "These plans only account for 2/3rds of our killercraft in the second stage. Surely we would want to employ all of them?" That was a question Atvar had expected, and one he only reluctantly gave out an explanation for.

"These numbers incorporate possible casualties for our killercraft during the first stage." He explained, and immediately heard an outbreak of hisses and murmurs as such an idea first popped into their heads. The idea of losing males in combat was alien to many, no doubt. The technological gap had ensured the previous two conquests suffered no combat casualties. There'd been only a few in both instances, all do to a rare accident.

"However, these are only initial plans." Atvar went on. "I remain confident in our capabilities and will assign whatever surplus killercraft there are to the appropriate efforts." Privately, Atvar was placing his hopes on Osea falling quickly to Race forces; two million males and 6,000 killercraft were a lot, and he was certain that more forces would be needed elsewhere on the planet.

Despite Straha having set an example, no other shiplords came forward to voice concerns over the plan and accepted it as was. Many of them seemed just as confident and sure as they'd always been, believing the conquest would be a quick and easy affair.

Even with all the evidence to the contrary staring him in the snout, Atvar still hoped so too.

X December 3rd, 2010. Sand Island AFB. X

Like any professional Air Force, the OADF had rules against fraternization, rules that covered a wide arrangement of behaviors. The two people in the Sand Island Air Base break room- one male, one female, both with black hair- seemed unconcerned about them as they were more or less slumped against each other on the couch in a state of slumber. Both had the rank insignias for Captain. The man's name tag read 'Austin'. The woman's read 'Nagase'.

Another individual entered the break room, this one younger and with a ginger set of hair. When he noticed the other two were asleep, he turned to leave, and ended up smacking into the wall. The sound was enough to wake the others and make them jump up.

"Oh, Grimm." Andrew Austin recognized his wingman and calmed down. "You scared us." Both individuals sat back down and rubbed their eyes. All three pilots of Wardog Squadron (or Razgriz, as they were being called) were tired and on edge. Their bodies had all been pushed to the limits in the past months as they were constantly put out on combat sorties against Yuktobania.

"S-sorry. Captain." Grimm recovered from his embarrassment. "I didn't want to wake you and Captain Nagase while you were sleeping."

"Well, I'm up." Andrew rose from the couch again, this time slowly to keep his aching body from screaming in protest. Nagase hadn't said anything and seemed to have fallen back asleep. She'd slept a lot since their last sortie. Andrew had been sleeping a lot since November City too. "What is it?"

"I just thought you'd want to know, Captain." Grimm explained. "Our new planes just arrived." Even though they'd survived the fight over November City, their planes had taken a lot of damage. Replacements had been ordered.

He glanced through the window blinds to see three planes being guided to the hangers: F-35As just like they'd had before. They were relatively new craft in the Osean Air Defense Force brought in as a cheaper alternative to the F/A-22. They originated from Belka, and Osea now had the official rights to reproduce the aircraft (Yuktobania had deployed some C variants from the Scinfaxi as well, no one knew where they'd gotten the design documents). Fast, agile, and boasting a reduced radar signature, it was easily amongst the best planes available to Osea.

"Good." Andrew nodded.

"Captain?" Grimm asked after glancing to make sure the third member of their squadron was still asleep. "Are you and Captain Nagase alright? Neither of you have been up much."

"Just tired." Andrew stretched, deciding he wasn't getting back to sleep, and started walking towards the kitchen for some coffee. Grimm followed. "Tell me, Grimm. How long have you been in the OADF?"

"Uhh." It took the younger man a few moments to recall. "Only five months, sir."

"Nagase and me have only been in for seven." Andrew told him. Andrew Austin had joined the OADF out of college as part of the ROTC scholarship he'd used to get his education. He'd intended to do his six years and get out. He hadn't even been assigned to a real squadron before the war broke out.

The whole event had severely changed the 23 year old's life. He'd suddenly found himself the leader of a squadron and responsible for those in it. And though he'd never hoped to fight in a war, he'd ended up proving tremendously talented in it and was now at the very front of it. The days flew by as half of them were spent in the air, and the only thing he had time to focus on was trying to protect those in his squadron.

That was the one thing he was trying to do above all else: keep his friends alive.

"Neither of us ever expected to be where we are." Andrews explained after taking a sip. The hot liquid slightly rejuvenated him. "Both of us never really expected to be fighting a war like this. We're tired of it, and all these sorties aren't good for our health. And now with Chopper…" He trailed off and both young men shook their heads.

"But…the war will be over soon, right?" Grimm asked. "The news is saying we're less than 100 miles from Cinigrad."

"I hope." Andrew nodded. "It'll be nice to finally see the world at peace again."

"Yeah…" Grimm agreed. "Captain Nagase's looking forward to that."

"We all are." Andrew nodded. "We do what we have to for peace." It was a peculiar belief, and one that had gotten more than a few raised eyebrows from the people who heard it. Maybe it was even hypocritical, coming from the squadron that had killed around 4,000 Yuktobanians between them. But it was their genuine belief. It was in the name of their country's armed forces, even: Osean Air Defense Force, or the Osean Maritime Defense Force. Defense Forces. They defended peace, and that entailed fighting the nation that had shattered the world's peace.

"You're looking dead on your feet." Andrew commented, looking at the dark spots underneath his wingman's eyes, indicating he was having an opposite problem since they lost Wardog 3. "Try and go get some sleep, Grimm. We'll need rest for wherever they send us next."

"Yes sir." The younger man didn't argue. Andrew watched him go before leaving the kitchen and heading back to the lounge where Kei was, still asleep. He grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and carefully laid it over her before heading to his own room, intent on something other than sleep.

On his desk, underneath the light of a lamp, was a vanilla folder whose contents he'd had a hard time acquiring, due in no small part to its classified nature. It was a report of the massive air battle over November City. Thanks to the hundreds of cameras that had been at the event, the OADF had been able to quickly compile a thorough report on how the Yuke aircraft had got in, and how the battle had unfolded.

Forty Yuktobanian fighters, and later a squadron of stealth bombers. It amazed even Wardog that they'd held out against those odds. Blaze kept their formation tight, fired only when they knew it would hit, and outmaneuvered most of what was fired at them. And yet it hadn't been enough to keep Chopper alive. The barracks were a lot quieter now that he was gone.

That was why he'd been looking over the report during his waking moments. His orders had been good, but not good enough. There was no guarantee, especially if Cinigrad was their next target, Wardog wouldn't find itself in another mess like that. Andrew had to find out where it had gone wrong, and how to prevent it again.

He was the squadron leader. He had to keep them safe, no matter what they faced.

XX A/N XX

It's all on the table now. Come up and place your bets now, folks. It's about to get interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: For future reference Strangereal does have time zones, or a Usean time zone at least, so simultaneous events may be happening on two different days. The sun rises in the east, so here's how I'm pretty sure it is. I am by no means a science expert, so someone correct me if I'm wrong.

Midday December 10th in Usea would amount to morning the next day in Osea and the late hours of the 10th in Verusa and Anea. Midday in Osea would amount to late night in Usea and morning the next day in Verusa and Anea. And midday in Verusa and Anea would amount to late night in Osea and early morning the next day in Usea. Hope this clarifies things.

Also, I dun goofed on the last chapter. Leasath and Aurelia aren't directly south of Osea; there's about three countries between them. Here's an idea for Ace Combat 7, since they're taking it back to SR- a full map would be nice.

X

December 2nd: The OFS _Kestral_ , held in reserve up north due to the destruction of its Naval Air Wing, intercepts a coded Belkan message intended for the Grey Men. The Captain orders it decoded, suspicious of its intent.

In Yuktobania, Osean armored forces attempt to capture Cruik Fortress, a massive fortification in the way of Cinigrad. The air squadron assigned for support is decimated in minutes and an Osean armored brigade is destroyed.

In Usea, ISAF wargames begin despite reservations the conditions are similar to those which kicked off the First Usean Continental War.

December 4th: With more air cover, Osean forces attempt once more to take Cruik Fortress. They are again repulsed with heavy losses.

In the Conquest Fleet, all killercraft pilots have been briefed on their highly important mission. Killercraft males being chosen especially for their aggressiveness, they are eager to meet their Tosevite counterparts.

December 5th: Captain Andersen of the _Kestral_ discovers the Grey Men's existence and their deeds through more intercepted communications. However, he is not immediately sure what to do about the matter. He does order a Belkan cargo ship smuggling aircraft seized, however, to interrogate its crew.

December 6th: Osean forces launch another assault on Cruik Fortress, this time with support from Wardog Squadron. The mission is an astounding success, and Osean Army units begin charging forward. The only thing beyond is Cinigrad.

Returning to Sand Island Air Base that evening, Wardog squadron is intercepted by Grey Men jammers and fighters smuggled into Yuktobania. Despite being unarmed and outnumbered, they manage to outmaneuver the Belkans and flee back home.

Having anticipated this, the Grey Men order their cells to paint Wardog as Yuktobanian spies so that they are killed. Despite this sounding far-fetched, Sand Island's base commander is convinced and orders the base's security forces on alert.

December 7th: Wardog flees Sand Island in stolen training jets and is pursued by the Grey Men's OADF cell. They manage to escape them through low flying and utilizing local volcanic activity to hide themselves. They are discovered by a lone fighter from the _Kestral_ , who orders them to bail out before shooting down their planes. To Osea and the Grey Men, it appears Wardog Squadron have been killed.

In reality, Captain Andersen ordered them rescued after learning of their framing. All pilots are taken to the _Kestral_ and the situation is explained in full to them. Everyone present vows to stop the Grey Men and their plans.

December 8th: The massive Race Conquest Fleet finally arrives close enough to earth to be seen by all, sending a massive shock across the entire planet. Panic sets in across the world and states of emergency are declared across various countries as militaries are quickly ordered to alert and world leaders are hidden away. Hasty attempts are made to contact the new arrivals, a effort hampered by the disassembly/destruction of various space programs over the past decade.

In Usea, the FCU calls together all Usean nations to reaffirm the solidity of ISAF and defense of the entire continent in case the aliens prove hostile, although their intentions aren't yet known. Erusea is officially sworn in as a member of the coalition. Due to the exercises taking place, all seven militaries are already deployed and armed for possible conflict. The FCU deploys some anti-air forces to its neighbors.

In Estovakia, the now two-faction civil war enters a temporary cease fire as the populace, isolated to their own troubles for the past several years, wonder what has just happened. Neighboring Emmeria calls for representatives from both factions as well from the Kingdom of Nordennavic to discuss the safety of Anea. The Eastern Faction leadership, still distrustful of Emmeria for supporting its rivals, nonetheless sends a representative. Despite its strict neutrality for centuries, Nordennavic agrees to send a representative as well.

All guns fall silent in Yuktobania as well, just on the verge of an Osean assault on Cinigrad. Panic erupts in Osea over the realization most of their ground forces are across the ocean, and only a few squadrons of aircraft and Special Forces teams are there to protect it. A regiment of Osean Marines is quickly gathered in Yuktobania to be sent back to Oured, but are not due to arrive for three days.

The Grey Men lose contact with the SOLG team the same day, and the Belkan patriots are left completely stunned at this sudden change. They quickly order agents and cells home, and begin mobilizing their small armed wing.

The five countries that maintain small stockpiles of nuclear weapons- Osea, Yuktobania, the FCU, Leasath, and secretly Belka- order the weapons prepared just in case. However, due to recent peace treaties, the nations have only 70 warheads between them, far less than the Conquest Fleet.

December 9th: Messages in several languages are transmitted to the Fleet requesting communications with them, but go unanswered. They are received, and even partly understood, but The Race is in no mood to talk after observing the Tosevite militaries mobilizing.

Despite the chaos engulfing the world, the survivors of Wardog launch an operation to rescue President Harling from his prison in southern Belka. It proves successful and he is quickly rushed back to the _Kestral_. His commitment to stop the Grey Men and the war is quickly overshadowed by the new threat in the sky.

On Anea, the four representatives meet and agree, at least temporarily, to a defensive alliance in case of attack. The military leadership of the Eastern Faction consider revealing the existence of the Aerial Fleet project, but decide against it for the time being.

Some two hundred Osean fighters and ground attack planes return to their home country from Yuktobania. Troops in training are hurriedly ordered from their bases to defend key positions. The rest of its ground forces in Yuktobania are ordered to dig in until an evacuation can be arranged. The OMDF is ordered to stay in the Ceres Ocean to keep Osean supply lines open. Yuktobanian troops, many inexperienced, are already dug in and expect the worse.

By this point, over 1,000 human aircraft of various nations are patrolling the skies, the first line of the planet's defense.

December 10th/11th: Race starships arrive in orbit and are finally able to dispatch their forces. As planned, EMBs are detonated over the main continental landmasses. Many aircraft, mostly older models, are knocked out of the sky by the resulting EMP although most equipment on the ground is protected. Damage is done to civilian structures as well. The EMBs deployed, 21,000 Race killercraft descend from their ships in orbit to strike Tosevite targets. The alien's intentions now complete clear, the human powers prepare to fight their new and unexpected enemy.

Seventy killercraft are ordered to down the Arkbird. With warning from the ground, the Grey Men contingent on board have the defensive weapons, unmanned aerial vehicles, and laser module ready. A sweep of the laser manages to destroy nine of them right away, alarming the Race pilots who quickly call in more killercraft. Despite shooting down 67 killercraft as they approach from various directions, the Arkbird takes numerous long-range missiles strikes and plummets into the Ceres Oscean. Losing contact with their control, several of the launched UCAVs simply crash into the sea. The Tosevite's only link to space gone, The Race turn to the planet surface, although there are plans to eventually survey the wreckage.

Usea: Midday on December 10th, 3,000 Race killercraft approach the continent from six different directions. Despite FCU assistance, North Point's meager military is quickly decimated at the cost of only 37 killercraft. Further bombs are dropped across the island country killing thousands, including most of the country's civilian leadership.

San Salvacion, plotted as a major landing point due to its desert landscape, is also quickly swarmed. Anti-air sites around the city of San Salvacion, the nation's capital, manage to shoot down the wave of 60 killercraft sent at it with Air Force assistance. However, the nation's aerial forces south of the Lambert Mountains are quickly destroyed. Infantry forces hidden in the mountains manage to shoot down several killercraft passing over with MANPADs, but its other Army forces are thoroughly bombed, as are its cities. By the time the bombings end, San Salvacion's capital is the only unscathed city and 60% of its military has been destroyed. Only 79 killercraft are shot down.

Delarus, located along Usea's northern coast, finds itself aided by the snowy December weather. Snow, a completely foreign condition to any species of The Race's Empire, impedes many killercraft as they descend on the nation. Several end up crashing due to poor visibility. Others have trouble locating human targets. The 56 fighters of Delarus' Air Force, however, are used to the weather and use it to ambush Race flights. Navy ships also manage to down several Race killercraft that stumble into range. Delarus survives the first wave with minimum damage. Race forces retreat, having lost 83 killercraft to combat.

The Independent State of Ugellas is completely destroyed during the bombings in south San Salvacion. 12% percent of its population is killed, and another 60% are rendered homeless.

Aided by its squadron of F/A-18Cs, Amber's six ship Navy successfully engages and destroys a group of 30 killercraft who approach the country from the gulf, with assistance from Erusian fighters on the nearby peninsula. Additional planes that attack from above are intercepted by Amber fighters and AA defenses on the ground. Mobius Squadron alone, equipped with X-02s and F/A-22s, manage to down 40 killercraft without loss. The rest of Amber's fighter wing, however, is shot down and two frigates are later sunk. Amber escapes major bombing of its cities, and destroys 91 Race killercraft.

The recently rearmed Erusea puts up a heavy resistance to the 600 killercraft that swarm its borders. As in San Salvacion, MANPAD armed infantry in the Amber and Lambert Mountains prove annoyances to Race aircraft. AA defenses set up in Whisky Corridor, the narrowest point between the two mountains, manage to down 67 killercraft. The reformed Erusian Navy manages to defend Farbanti from intensive attack, shooting down 87 Race planes and losing four ships. It's Air Force, still staffed by some fortunate survivors of the war, down 47 killercraft at the loss of 26. Though some cities are bombed, Erusea and its air defense units survive the initial attack while downing just over 240 killercraft.

The FCU receives the brunt of the enemy offensive, and over 600 Air Force and Navy fighters, including 170 X-02s, are in the air when The Race arrives. With anti-air defenses around most major population centers and coastlines, the FCU manages to lure Race forces away from bombing most of their cities. The X-02 squadrons, which Race radars cannot detect, easily approach and destroy Race formations before they realize they are under attack. The FCU's fleet of 72 F/A-22s have similar luck.

In the 2 hour long battle that follows, the FCU manages to shoot down 1,211 killercraft, 70% them falling the highly connected, nationwide ground based air-defense system the FCU developed after the 2nd Continental War ended. However, nearly a fifth of the system is bombed and destroyed and much of the stored ammunition is used up. The FCU loses 268 aircraft, including 32 Wyverns and 17 Raptors.

The Race's first strike on Usea results in a 58% casualty rate. However, the humans have suffered severe casualties as well and, unlike the Race, have no more forces in reserve.

Anea: Nordennavic's Navy, the island nation's strongest branch, consolidates itself around the home islands while part of its Air Force joins Emmerian patrols around Khesed. As per agreement, Emmerian aircraft join Eastern Faction and Lyes United Front air patrols over Estovakia. The attack comes in late evening hours of the 10th.

Half of the 4,200 killercraft that attack Anea head straight for Estovakia, intent on stamping out one of the most violent Empires on the planet. Instead, they fly right into a mess of experienced Estovakian pilots and anti-air forces, as well as well-equipped Emmerian pilots. The skies above Estovakia turn into a mess as anti-air fire, planes, and missiles fill the air for only an hour before it's over. Of the 2,100 killercraft to attack the nation, over 900 are shot down. The Eastern Faction's Air Force and ground units survive, but the LUF suffers severe casualties and nearly 100 Emmerian aircraft are lost. Given the darkness and the choice to turn off as many lights as possible, Estovakia manages to avoid significant bombings.

700 Killercraft target Nordennavic, but are impaired by the late winter weather combined with the dark. As was the case in Delarus, several crash, and others are unable to find their targets. Nordennavic's military sheds blood for the first time and downs over 200 killercraft over their home before the rest are ordered to join the attack on Emmeria instead.

The Emmerian Capital of Gracemeria is visited by several hundred killercraft, and the Emmerian Air Force, Army, and Navy meet them head on. The Emmerian 2nd Fleet flagship _Marigold_ directs Navy anti-air operations from Gracemeria's harbor, and the Navy is eventually responsible for half of the 263 killercraft shot down during the attack at the cost of no ships. Gracemeria is bombed however, and over 40 Air Force fighters are lost.

Another concentrated Race attack focuses on San Loma, an industrial port city in western Emmeria. As in Gracemeria, the Emmerian military gives them a hard welcome with minor aid from Nordennavic Air Force fighters. Several industrial sites are bombed, three ships are sunk, and 34 aircraft from the two nations are shot down. However, over some 100 killercraft are shot down in the engagement.

Khesed Island fares worst of Anea, given its sparser military presence. The 90 Emmerian and Nordennavic fighters on patrol are unable to resist for long the killercraft sortie sent to bomb the island. Thousands are killed as the island is bombed and dozens of human fighters are shot down to the cost of only 41 killercraft. Emmerian defenses on the ground only manage to shoot down 32 killercraft.

The first strike on Anea leaves the human powers all wounded but still standing. The Race suffer 31% casualties.

Osean Continent: 4,800 killercraft attack the continent in the early hours of December 11th, with efforts focused mainly in the eastern and southern countries.

Given its intent as a manufacturing base, Osea is not as heavily bombed as the other nations. Race killercraft do bomb its coastal SAMs, port facilities, and the Basset Space Center however. Main focus though it on the Osean aircraft still stationed there. 321 killercraft are shot down attempting to destroy Osea's elaborate coastal defenses, and 54% of the system survives. 154 killercraft are shot down in combat with the OADF forces still stationed in Osea, but over 100 Osean fighters are shot down, gutting what relatively little defense the country still had.

Belka and Wellow are thought as demilitarized by The Race and spared. While the truth is both are officially, through treaty and choice respectively, the Belkan Grey Men are in fact active in Belka and attack Race aircraft as they fly over southern Belka, downing two dozen killercraft. Due to the snowstorms in most of Belka at the time, Race killercraft choose to avoid them and focus on the eastern countries, mostly free of snow.

Ustio, Sapin, and Gebet, allies in the Belkan War, aren't able to put up too much of a defense. All three country's militaries are bombed into the ground at the cost of only 70 killercraft between them. The results are similar in the rest of the eastern countries, and by the end the Race only loses 115 killercraft while successfully crippling the forces of the eastern countries.

Leasath and Aurelia suffer intense bombing efforts as well. Working separately, both countries engage Race aerial forces as they attack from both the south and from Osea. Owing to its Fascist Government, Leasath had pulled up more than 40,000 new troops from reserve forces since the Race were spotted. Many of these reservists man anti-air guns around the country. Though many are killed, they contribute to the 299 killercraft shot down over Leasath. The country's regular forces and cities are still bombed, however.

Aurelia's Navy, boasting a carrier purchased from Osea two years ago, manages to delay the southern group from reaching the mainland for several minutes before all ships are sunk. Having expended most of their ground ordinance against the ships, Race killercraft are successfully engaged by Aurelian AA on the ground once they do reach the actual country. Due in part to the sacrifice of 16,000 brave sailors, most of middle and northern Aurelia escapes unscathed. Military casualties are still high, however.

The assault leaves Osea open to Race taking and the other countries in no place to successfully resist. This theater proves the most successful for the Race, despite a still high 27% casualty rate.

Verusa: The other 8,500 killercraft, including one carrying an explosive metal bomb, are sent to attack the continent in the dead of the night. A special emphasis is placed of the razing of Yuktobania, and 7,000 killercraft fly into the country expecting to bomb its cities into the ground.

Instead, they find a mess even greater than that of Estovakia. Thousands of anti-air guns and SAM batteries from both Osea and Yuktobania are scattered throughout the country, and killercraft aren't safe no matter where they go. Now working together rather than against each other, several hundred Osean and Yuktobania fighters rise to greet the largest killercraft groups at high altitude and trigger several massive dogfights that light up the skies above. Osean F/A-22s and Yuktobanian X-02s, with the night at their aid, replicate the FCU's success at stealthily tearing apart Race formations.

What killercraft do avoid the clusters of chaos are engaged by the anti-air defenses on the ground. Though soon to lose their supply base, Osean forces are still well armed. Yuktobania's own air defenses are active too. 593 killercraft (including the one carrying the EMB) are lost in the great aerial engagements, and a further 1,854 are destroyed by defenses on the ground. Other fighters still on the ground take off to engage the disorganized and nearly unarmed stragglers that finally reach Yuktobania.

Despite blunting the massive attack, a few thousand Race aircraft do make it through. Dozens of cities in southern Yuktobania are bombed, and most Osean controlled areas, including those where its supply dumps are located, are bombed as well. Ground forces from both militaries are only briefly engaged by Race killercraft.

600 Killercraft are ordered to destroy the 87 Osean warships off Yuktobania's eastern coast and any transport ships they can find, and the ensuring battle lays out for The Race to see all the difficulties it had had with naval forces throughout the first stage. Due to their aggressiveness, Race pilots end up firing as soon as they lock onto the Osean ships, giving them plenty of time to track and intercept. Without understanding the overlapping security of Osean point-defense systems, Race pilots fire their missiles right where the ships can most effectively defeat them. Lastly, lacking the sea-skimming capabilities of most human anti-ship missiles, Race air to ground ordinance prove unsuited for the task.

Although some ships are damaged, the Osean battle groups manage to successfully fend off the attacks and shoot down 133 killercraft, albeit at the cost of nearly expending all their anti-air ordinance. Osean naval planes manage to shoot down another 43 killercraft at the cost of 19 of their own planes. A group of 60 killercraft misidentify and attack a Yuktobanian fleet in the southern Ceres Ocean, with similar results. Dozens of cargo ships are sunk however, nonetheless dealing a blow to an Osea hoping to get its forces home quickly.

Due to the dearth of killercraft, western Verusa is completely spared of attack. The southern countries are still bombed, but Race killercraft expend their weaponry and retreat very quickly, not getting into engagements with the local forces and losing less than 20 killercraft.

The assault on the Verusan continent ends largely in human favor. The EMB is not successfully deployed and The Race loses over 3,000 killercraft, a casualty rate of just over 30%. However, the number of human fighters Yuktobania only number 700 now, a fourth of what they were at the start. Human ground forces, including anti-air, also survived largely unscathed, although Osean forces are left with only enough supplies for a few days of operation.

From the Bannership, Atvar observes the reports as the last killercraft return to their designated starship. The first strike on the Tosevites have ended up in the destruction of 7107 killercraft, 34% of the first wave and 15% of their total numbers, with another 7% of theirs damaged and incapable of combat for some time. Nearly a fourth of the Conquest Fleet's aerial assets are already out of action. It is a far steeper number they he would've hoped, but still fortunately above (barely) the safety net he casted when distributing forces for the second phase.

The Arkbird had been destroyed, fortunately, and the Tosevite powers had taken a lot of damage. Atvar reflects that more damage in Yuktobanina would've been preferable, but it cannot be helped now. He decides the strike is adequate and that things could proceed. A suggestion from Straha suggesting another attempt at using EMBs is disregarded.

Two hours after the first attacks cease, another wave of fresh killercraft are ordered to escort the starships carrying Race ground forces to the surface. The next phrase of the invasion begins.


	6. Chapter 6

X Amber, December 10th, 2010 X

The setting sun was normally a beautiful sight. The reddish orange glow was breath taking and even romantic from some places in Usea. But today it was anything but. Its hues were so hauntingly similar to the thousands of fires raging around the continent, no one could look at it without being reminded of the horror the day had entailed.

Issaac Lensen was now a colonel in Amber's Air Force, but still commanding the 118th Tactical Fighter Squadron, a collection of the eight most experienced pilots Amber had to offer flying four X-02s and four F/A-22s. Little else had changed about the man, except for his inner struggle about what to do with his life.

Twice in the last 12 years Usea had been ravaged by large scale war, and now another was to engulf it. Once again a protector was needed. _He_ was needed.

But aliens… That particular brand of science-fiction wasn't very popular in Usea. It had been a complete surprise to everyone, at least when everyone had had time to be surprised. The first attack had been nearly smothering, and everyone was on the defensive now.

The Republic of Amber Air Force only had three air bases: AFB Henri in the country's northwest where his squadron had been based, the largest in the Capital where another squadron and the AAF's Transport Wing was located, and another near the eastern border where the last fighter squadron was stationed.

Mobius Squadron was still the country's best squadron, six out of eight of its pilots having fought against Erusea in the war and being equipped with both X-02s and F/A-22s. Aside from Lensen, there was lieutenant colonel Isak Karlsson, Mobius 5, who'd gained an impressive 61 aerial victories during the war and commanded the squadron's flight of F/A-22s or the whole squadron while Lensen was away. Captains Joona Eriksen, Oscar Nilsen, Matias Johansen, and Anni Larsen, Mobius 2, 3, 4, and 6 respectively, were recruited later in the war but all had modest kill counts above 15. All of them also shared their commander's problem of loss of purpose after the war ended. Mobius 7 and 8, Lucas Lindberg and Daniel Hursch, had had no kills to their names the day before but had proved talented enough in training to fly the country's F/A-22s.

The other two squadrons had maybe 3 veteran pilots between them and had been equipped with EF-2000s, one of the few completely indigenous Usean designed aircraft that was effective but still cheap to maintain. 24 fighters total was what Amber's Air Force had, and they'd had them all up in the air the moment they returned from exercises in neighboring Erusea.

They'd spent hours in the air on patrol, occasionally glancing up to the sky and only landing when their planes needed fuel or the pilots needed just a few hours of sleep; the rest of their energy was provided by amphetamines. The first attack had come at 1:17 P.M, Usean Central Time, when the nukes went off. The planes were armored against such things though, so they'd gotten through with only a light shaking before the actual attack came: 60 contacts approaching from high above Mobius Squadron, soon identified by the ground as aircraft. Other aircraft were coming down near the border with San Salvacion and over the gulf. All three squadrons had been sent up to intercept, the Navy assumed defensive formations, and the Army had readied defenses on the ground.

There'd been some losses, but Amber had survived the attack. Survival didn't always line up with winning, though. The other two squadrons had suffered complete casualties and several C-130s from the Air Lift Wing had been destroyed. The Navy had lost a ship or two, and the Army's air defenses had been bombed. They'd heard while they were on the ground rearming that the Capital had been bombed as well. The civilian population was still in chaos from the EMP.

The FCU had apparently fared better, which wasn't a surprise. Lensen still remembered back in 1999 when the northern Usean countries joined the FCU as states and conquered the southern countries right after the war to form the modern FCU. The first thing that they pledged was that no power, Osea and Yuktobania especially, would violate Usean sovereignty and had announced a massive military buildup. And as soon as the Second Continental War ended, they'd gone right back to building up. The new crown of their efforts had been a grand anti-air network (Erusian air superiority must've still haunted them) covering all their borders. Looked like it had paid off- they were still in the fight.

Erusea and Delarus had survived the first fight as well, which didn't surprise Lensen either. Erusea's military had always been professional either on defense or offense, and even after the FCU was formed many still thought the Erusian military the continent's best. Delarus had always seemed to have weather on its side in the many wars in Usean history. It apparently hadn't been as grand as the blizzard that killed an invading army of 40,000 during the last century, but they'd gotten through virtually unscathed.

North Point, San Salvacion, and Ugellas though… Lensen knew people from those nations, good and decent people. All three nations had been some of the most peaceful in Usea's history too. San Salvacion had hosted treaties that ended dozens of wars for centuries. Now they were all burning, bombed by these damn invaders.

They still didn't know much about them, having only been in actual contact for less than half a day. So far though, Lensen had found them underwhelming. Though not a fan of science fiction, he'd expected something more…foreign than an attack using conventional fighters. Those fighters, all in a desert color, were all exactly the same though. There was no variety like normal air forces, where different planes had strengths and weaknesses to be exploited.

Their shape vaguely reminded him of MiG-29s, although they seemed to be lacking some qualities of recent generation fighters. He hadn't gotten an exact count, but he knew for a fact their weapon capacity was greater than any plane he'd ever seen. Yet oddly they didn't seem to be able to detect the X-02s or F/A-22s unless they were practically on top of them. Both planes had stealth capabilities but even fighters from the last century could partially detect them with a few upgrades.

Their pilots though (assuming there were any; the AI controlled X-02s showed more skill) hadn't been remarkable either. Lensen's squadron had flown under the enemy group as they came down and gotten right behind them. They hadn't been noticed until an 8 aircraft missile volley shot down nearly half their number from afar, and even then they'd been able to close in and fire shorter range missiles before their planes were actually located. And even once they'd known they were under attack, their maneuvering had been less than good. Lensen had bagged three of them (they seemed to travel in groups of three) simply by breaking and letting them overshoot him before using the Wyvern's cannon to tear all three apart- arguably the simplest trick a pilot could pull. The rest had fled after less than a minute of combat. Mobius Squadron's veterans had increased their kill counts and their newest members were both aces already.

But what their mysterious enemy lacked in technology and skill they certainly made up in numbers. Over 100 aircraft were sent to attack Amber alone. The Battle over Comona, which up till today had been the largest aerial battle in history, only involved 90 fighters from several nations. There'd supposedly been over 10,000 enemy fighters swarming the planet, it was unfathomable.

But now that they were gone, everyone had time to think and important questions came to mind: How many enemy aircraft were left? Was another strike coming? Would it just be planes next time? Would they survive another strike? What did these invaders want?

"Damn." Lensen muttered to himself, watching the scenes playing across the TVs that had been hastily shoved into the meeting room. They showed the same images all over the world: smoke and fire and chaos. It was a hundred times worse than going outside to look at the smoke filling the horizon, for it showed just how outclassed they really were.

Lensen was the only one focusing on the TVs though. Behind him in the meeting room was the base commander and other staff members. The debriefing had quickly turned to chaos while everyone tried to figure out casualties, what had happened elsewhere, and what was going to happen. Lensen had had little input after the first few minutes.

"Usean Federation Army units are already moving into San Salvacion and Ugellas to provide relief and defense for the locals." It was a news network from the FCU speaking; only they and one from Erusea seemed to still be airing on the continent after the EMP. "Still no word on who these invaders are or what they want, but this clearly unprovoked attack has proved costly for them so far." The shot changed to captured footage of the UFAF and UFA in action against the invaders. All the shots included at least one alien aircraft being destroyed.

Lensen turned to the Erusian broadcast next, his mind needing only a moment to switch to understanding the different language. It was currently in the midst of showing anti-aircraft fire in Whisky Corridor while a grave voice spoke over it. "-earts go out to those brave men and women who are risking their lives to protect Erusea- and all of Usea- from this terrible threat."

High pitch screaming brought Lensen's gaze to a TV turned to the Osean Broadcast Corporation. He'd been tuning that one out for a while; it only seemed to be criticizing the current Osean government for leaving the country undefended. But his focus was it entirely as he saw what was on it: a ship, presumably a spaceship the invaders came in on, had appeared over Osea's sky and was growing bigger. It was coming closer. It was going to land.

"Commander!" Lensen yelled loud enough to grab everyone's attention, and that was quickly diverted to what he was looking at.

"Oh, Jesus." The Base Commander said softly before putting down the phone and quickly picking it up to redial. The rest of the staff was fixated on the sight. On the screen, the reporter seemed stunned as she described what she was seeing. And then that turned to terror as they noticed something else coming down too: more planes.

"Damn!" The Base Commander swore, grabbing everyone's attention again. "FCU is reporting sightings too. Those bastards are gonna land!"

"Which means another wave of fighters." Lensen realized. The Base Commander nodded.

"Get back in air, colonel. Defend our skies as well as you can and get back safe."

"Yes sir." Lensen nodded and grabbed his helmet off the table before quickly leaving the room. The air raid warning alarm went off a few moments later, which he knew what get the rest of his squadron off the ground.

Indeed, as he stepped outside now in a full sprint, two of the Raptors were already lifting off and the three Wyverns were taxing to the runway. The base's small security detachment were running about, readying anti-air guns and missile batteries. Even with the squadrons shot down, he was certain the other bases were readying their defenses as well.

"She's loaded up, sir!" The crew chief reported as Lensen reached his plane. "Four AIM-120s, four 7s, and a pair of 9s!" The mix of radar and heat homing anti-air ordinance would give him a wider range of engagement options. Similar to the Raptor, the X-02 carried its anti-air ordinance internally. The difference was pylons would emerge from the plane to fire before retracting rather than the bays opening. It helped keep the Wyvern aerodynamic and fast even in combat.

"Good man!" Lensen responded as he climbed the ladder and settled into the cockpit just as the other X-02s got in the air. Lensen quickly got his comms up."Karlsson, get the squadron formed up and at high altitude. I'll catch up."

He got an affirmative from his subordinate and started up the X-02. The wings unfolded as he taxied out of the hanger and onto the runway. "Take off when ready, Mobius 1." The control tower told him as he got to the far end of path. The X-02 had been designed as a carrier jet, and was capable of taking off at short distances anyway due to its light weight. He was only speeding down the runway for a few short seconds before the plane took to the air.

"I'm in the air." Lensen applied afterburners to catch up to his squadron. " _Henri_ , can we get some directions up here?"

"Stand by, Mobius 1, the FCU is trying to track the path of the ships. We'll relay the information when we get it." Lensen caught up to his squadron at 8000 feet in the meantime, flying in a V formation, heading 3-0-1 with the F/A-22s behind the X-02s. The colonel took his spot of the head of the formation when the radio came back.

"Mobius Squadron, be advised: The FCU has concluded five ships landing near our borders. Three are going to touch down in southern San Salvacion, and two are gonna land just across the border in Erusea."

"That's less than 100 miles from the base." Mobius 3 realized.

"Correct." _Henri_ replied gravely. "They seem to be coming down under heavy enemy air cover. Mobius squadron, engage any enemy that crosses our borders."

"Roger that, _Henri._ We'll do what we can." That was the only thing Lensen could say with a straight and honest face. The squadron had 72 anti-air missiles between them. Given their enemy's previous incompetence, that many missiles could get them far if they were conservative. But at the same time, they had to remember the enemy's number advantage.

"What about the landing near San Salvacion?" Mobius 8 asked. "Are we just going to let them land?"

"We lose if we split up. We'll just have to trust the Army to drive them off." Lensen didn't like it, but the squadron stayed powerful of a complete group. As that thought crossed his mind, he realized they were within 20 miles of the border with Erusea.

"They're be coming down around here." He turned his gaze upwards to see two dark blips, small at this distance. That had to be the ships. "Might be a few minutes. Maintain a patrol around this area." Untouched nature lay below them broken up by occasional farmland. The Army would be defending the border towns; they were the only ones out here.

"Contacts from the west. They're pinging friendly." Mobius 3 informed them as six blue blips sped across the radar. Lensen's hand tightened on the flight stick as they crossed the border without hesitation and continued approaching. Then a voice called to them over the radio in Erusian.

" _Amber pilots, this is Captain Krehle of the Erusian Air Force. May we join your patrol?"_ The aircraft were now close enough to visually confirm them as human- SU-35s, Yuktobanian Su-27s upgraded with Erusian technology. They were fellow ISAF planes, alright.

" _If you wish, Captain."_ Lensen responded in the man's native language. No sooner had he given his consent did the planes fall in behind his F/A-22s.

"You are the Ribbon Fighter, yes?" Captain Krehle spoke to Lensen in the Amber language. "It is an honor, Colonel." Even after all this time and peace, he was far from anonymous.

" _We're glad for the extra help, Captain."_ Lensen responded. _"You were told about the enemy landing here?"_

" _Yes. We will ascend and meet them head on as soon as they come. What is your plan, Grim Reaper?"_ Lensen took a moment to think about that. His squadron's stealth capabilities were their strongest weapon at the moment. On the other hand, there was a chance the enemy would be watching this time for attacks from below. Attacking head on had its own advantages- they could split the enemy formations and quickly disorganize them. And head on fighting could be as terrifying as a hidden approach.

But their missiles would have less a chance to impact and they'd be risking a head on collision with the enemy craft. Yet the Erusians didn't have the advantage of stealth and the enemy had a habit of firing as soon as they picked up something. Lensen couldn't just leave them hanging.

"That doesn't look good." Mobius 8 drew everyone's attention to the sky, where what seemed like a cloud was emerging from behind the blip that had grown larger in the past minutes. Was that a mass of fighters? It looked far bigger than the groups that had hit the continent before.

" _God in Heaven."_ The Erusian squadron leader breathed. Now they had just over a hundred missiles between all of them. Assuming every single one destroyed one enemy plane, that'd still leave maybe another hundred or two. Their radars finally started recognizing them, filling their screens with a mass of blips.

"Orders, Colonel?" Mobius 5 asked.

"…Hold for a moment." Lensen leaned to look into his radar and then up in the sky. The cloud was splitting in two. "Let's see what they're doing." It only a minute before it became apparent. The enemy was forming a massive ring, presumably around exactly where those ships would land. "They're patrolling." This wasn't another mass aerial bombing, but it could be worse depending on what was on those ships.

" _Arrogant bastards."_ One of the Erusian pilots swore. Although a few strayed over the line, most of the ring stayed within Erusian borders.

"But they are not coming towards us." Captain Krehle spoke to the Amber pilots.

"You spoke too soon there." Mobius 2 corrected him; 20 fighters had split was the mass and were coming towards them. The rest continued to flying in their loose circle that decreased altitude with every circulation. The sight was borderline absurd. But only 20?

" _Captain, were your planes noticed in the first wave?"_ Lensen asked. _"They never detected ours."_

" _Yes."_ He acknowledged with some bitterness in this voice. _"They swarmed us as soon as they saw us and shot down several of our fellow pilots."_

" _I think they're only seeing your planes on radar."_ Lensen theorized. Those were getting closer now and would probably fire off their missiles are any moment. _"That would explain the low response."_

"Perhaps you are right." The Erusian leader admitted. "We won't impede you, Amber pilots. Use your stealth and strike the enemy. _We will handle their pathetic patrol."_ On those words, the SU-35s broke formation and applied after burners as they sped head on towards the enemy.

" _Good luck, Erusian pilots."_ Lensen wished them. That was one problem sorted out. But even if the enemy wasn't launching another attack, they needed to take the opportunity to inflict what losses they could. And now they could use their stealth.

"Alright Mobius Squadron, same plan as last time!" Lensen announced. "We'll fly at them from below and pick them off. Fire off what you got and head straight back. I don't think we have to worry about being pursued this time. 5, take your flight and strike them from the north and we'll come at them from the south."

With an affirmative from his second, the squadron split up with both flights immediately diving to only 1200 feet. The X-02s passed not too far below from where the Erusians and enemy were engaged. He was pleased to see there were still six blue blips and only eleven red. They were holding their own, and hopefully Mobius Squadron's attack would keep more enemy fighter from swarming them.

It was still bizarre to see how the enemy was flying. An inner and outer ring, going clockwise and counter clockwise respectively. Although it would obviously keep aircraft from attacking the bigger ships as they landed, it struck Lensen as excessive and a waste of resources. Then again, maybe the enemy had the resources to do this without worry.

Lensen's flight ended up reaching the enemy first, the sheer size up close actually starting to worry him as the sunlight disappeared as they flew under the massive patrol. Or maybe it were the two starships that had grown far bigger above them now. Lensen had faced down entire fighter wings on his own and come out on top, sunk the Erusian Navy's most powerful fleet, and single handedly beat half the aces produced by the FEAF. But this was unnerving. No one nation or even coalition on the planet could have replicated the show of force these invaders were presenting. And this was just one spot on the planet.

"Engage targets at your own discretion." Lensen ordered. "When you run out, get the hell out of here and head back to base." Lensen watched the others split up and angled his own plane upwards, watching as over 50 planes passed over him in just a few seconds in formations of giant triangles. He selected the AIM-120s, the missiles with the longest range, and watched on his HUD as they locked onto four random fighters and fired.

Fire and forget was something any sane pilot followed, so he didn't wait to see if they hit what he'd aimed at. He accelerated up even faster and switched to the AIM-7s, radar guided like the 120s but with shorter range. Still a few miles below the ring, he leveled his aircraft and waited for a few tense seconds while they locked on and fire those as well, although in pairs since the other weapon bays could only fire two missiles before the pylons retracted to equip another.

He switched to the AIM-9s last, heat seekers rather than radar, but didn't change his position. To his frustration though, the missiles were reluctant to find anything to lock onto. The seconds ticked by as they failed to acquire a target and the plane got closer and closer to the enemy. He held long enough to see the last four missiles he'd fired all find their targets.

Then a warning tone informed him his was being pinged by weapons radar. "Damn." Lensen swore. If they could lock on, he was definitely too close. It was time to go. An inverted dive caused him to leave the altitude he'd gained in mere seconds and the tone quickly disappeared as he put distance between his plane and the defensive ring.

The rest of his flight hadn't wasted their time either and were already pulling out. He could even see another X-02 to his left diving away as well. All four of them seemed have started evacuating at the same time and gravitated towards each other as they pulled out of their respective dives. A quick glance at the radar told him the other flight had done so as well.

The Wyverns decreased their altitude again and sped east as fast as the craft would carry them. As soon as the aircraft was level, Lensen glanced at his radar. Whether it was because they couldn't see the craft or the enemy just didn't think they were worth pursuing, they weren't being followed. Karlsson's flight was heading their direction now.

"Alright, good job flight." Lensen turned his eyes forward when he realized they weren't being followed. "How many did we get?" The others reported at least three kills each, with at most four 'maybes' from the 120s. But they were reliable missiles, so he was willing to tally most of those as actual kills.

"They're still going to land though." Mobius 3 reminded them.

"It was a hit and run attack. Best we could do under the circumstances." Lensen reminded him. It did bother him though: Coming away from a fight inconclusively. But if spending a year fighting across the continent taught ISAF one thing, it was patience. "Everyone alright?" Lensen asked as the Raptors caught up.

"Not a scratch on any of us." Karlsson confirmed. "Our strike was successful."

"So was ours. Shot down maybe 30 enemy aircraft."

"I think we nailed at least 25 of the bastards." Mobius 8 boasted.

"Roger that." Lensen acknowledged. Fifty enemy fighters. It wasn't going to immediately stop the enemy, but it was a start. If they could get armed up again, they might be able to come back and pick even more off. That in mind, he went ahead and contacted the air base to alert them that they were returning.

He got no response.

"AFB Henri, come in!" Lensen radioed again. Nothing. He switched to a wider channel. "This is Colonel Lensen of the Amber Air Force, sending a call to any and all ISAF forces in Usea. Does anyone read me, over?" There was more silence for a few moments, and not even a response from the Erusian flight came back. Had they gone home? The Amber Army couldn't have been too far away, or were they under attack too? Had the enemy actually sent out attacks again this time?

"Mobius 1?" A response finally came through, a bit distorted likely from distance. "This is NAS Serenity, what is your status?" No other responses came. Were they the only friendly instillation left nearby?

"NAS Serenity, we've just come out of an engagement, are unarmed, and are unable to contact our air base. Do you have any lines of communication to Henri Air Force Base?" He waited for a response.

"That's a negative, Mobius 1. AFB Henri went dark thirteen minutes ago. We've lost contact with the Capital as well. Mobius 1 uh…our runway is still operational if you need somewhere to land."

"…Roger that Serenity." Lensen sighed. They could fly back towards their base, but if it was destroyed and enemies were nearby then they would essentially be committing suicide. "Be advised, we're heading your way. Keep the runway open for us."

"Roger that, Mobius 1. We'll be waiting for you."

"Squadron. Form up on me and change heading to 1-6-3. Keep below 2000 feet to avoid detection." He adjusted his plane to that direction before the others fell in behind him.

"Colonel, did we lose?" Mobius 7 asked. Lensen glanced out his cockpit towards the west. The massive ships that had taken up the horizon were no longer in the air, but firmly on the ground in Erusea. Would that mean ground forces now?

"Haven't lost yet." Mobius 2 sounded sure. "We got pushed to the islands last time and still came back." That year of his life flashed in Lensen's mind again. They'd been pushed right to the brink and they _had_ come back, against an enemy that outweighed them is almost every way. Whoever these invaders were, they only seemed to have numbers working for them right now. While that was significant, it wasn't everything. 6 Million Erusian troops with Stonehenge under their command had not been able to hold Usea, and they weren't even at the brink yet.

"You're right, Captain. This war has only just started. We got plenty of time to turn things around." Lensen glanced again towards the west. "We _will_ turn things around. No power has ever taken over Usea before, and neither will this one, whoever they are."

X Skies above Ustio, December 11th X

Killercraft pilot Teerts shifted a little in his killercraft's cockpit, constantly aware of coldness that seemed to be seeping in from outside and the feeling of discomfort it caused. How very cold this planet was. The mountains below them weren't unusual, but the ice and frozen precipitation that covered them was. Ice was incredibly rare on Home, only occasionally falling in the planet's Polar Regions and sticking even more rarely.

"I hope the males who participated in the first strike were quick to join the Spirits of Emperors Past, rather than be trapped here." Another killercraft pilot in the squadron remarked as they flew on. Killercraft pilots had been specially trained to not avert their eyes when the Emperor was mentioned, less an accident occur.

"Truth." The other nine of them, Teerts included, spoke. They'd been told the first squadron sent to bomb a Tosevite air base in these mountains had been shot down, ten pilots among many that had apparently been lost in the initial attack. Even if they'd bailed out, they'd be trapped here where not even the most addled male would voluntarily go. Even if a death was regrettable, he hoped they'd had such a quick fate. Teerts did not want to imagine how cold it was outside of his killercraft.

It spoke something that the original strike force had been shot down. Teerts had not been impressed even after being told how fast the natives had advanced and being shown examples of their killercraft. They even needed different killercraft for attacking ground or air targets! But now he was cautious, especially after the first strike had claimed so many males.

But this was supposed to be one of the weaker empires below them, one that had already been damaged anyway. They'd be more than able to avenge the pilots in the first wave.

"We are approaching our target." Their squadron leader told them. A killercraft squadron consisted of a leader and three flights. A flight consisted of two killercraft and a flight leader. Ten killercraft total. The location of their target had already been locked into each killercraft's navigation computer, an arrow and number on their screen indicating its direction and distance from them.

Teerts' radar made a noise to indicate it had detected an unfamiliar signature. The killercraft pilot only had a moment to turn an eye turret towards it before the sky in front of him suddenly lit up. A few killercraft in front of him, including what he was certain was the squadron leader and his flight leader's, exploded in balls of fire. Three specs suddenly shot up just a short distance away from his killercraft and the others in his squadron.

The radio exploded with hissing and shouts of confusion as the formation fell apart, killercraft veering off to avoid a collision risk that had already passed. Teerts looked upwards and saw the three specs high above him. _Killercraft_ , he realized, and pulled back on the controls.

His killercraft was heavy due to the bombs mounted underwing, but still climbed upwards at his command and he was soon flying straight up. Those Tosevite killercraft had come right out from under them. Had they actually been addled enough to fly _through_ the mountains? It would explain how radar missed them till the last moment.

Teerts was nearly blinded by the sun as he climbed after the three killercraft, trying to lock onto them. They were bulky single engine craft. Heat and fire seemed to be coming from the back, but for reasons Teerts couldn't explain it didn't seem to be doing the crafts harm. All three started evening out from their climb around the time the killercraft's computers informed him his radar guided missiles had a lock.

Teerts immediately fired, and three missiles detached from underneath his killercraft and flew upwards. The three Tosevite craft immediately broke apart and dived in different directions. One that veered off to the right was hit and fell back to Tosev 3 in flaming pieces. Another missile detonated near one of the killercraft which immediately started spewing black smoke, which was a kill as far as Teerts was concerned. The last missile somehow failed to strike its target and the enemy killercraft leveled out its dive and headed right back towards Teerts' squadron.

"Watch out!" He warned over the radio as he dived after it. The killercraft were already spread out and split further at his warning. That didn't stop the Tosevite pilot from downing another with gunfire. _They even have guns on their killercraft just like ours_. He realized. That went two ways though. In the dive, Teerts had managed to get close enough to use his own gun. The Tosevite killercraft burst into flames and continued speeding downwards till it hit a mountain side.

Teerts pulled out of his dive and looked around for the last Tosevite killercraft, managing to look just in time to see it being shot down by another squadron member. The battle had been quick and violent, but it was over now.

"How many males did we lose?" He asked as he leveled out alongside the other pilots. By his count, there were only three other killercraft. "Did any flight leaders survive?"

"It would appear not." Another pilot answered. "I…I never expected the Tosevites would be able to do that. They are resting with the Emperors of the past now."

"They are strange, but not weak." Another agreed.

"Truth." Teerts agreed. Flying through the mountains! They'd been maneuverable enough to evade his missiles too. He had no clue as to why they'd all caught fire when hit though. Perhaps their hydrogen fuel cells weren't as safely manufactured as Race ones. "But this is troublesome…we have no leader now." That was a terrifying thing in their highly hierarchical society. Back on Home it wasn't uncommon for businesses to experience a dangerous fall if a higher executive died in a car accident. Fortunately, their military training meant they weren't immediately paralyzed.

"I shall contact our starship." He volunteered. He had to find the proper channels that originally only the squadron leader had been using, then he had to wait for a controller to be able to answer them. This all taking several moments in which the killercraft lazily flew circles around where the engagement had just occurred. Finally he got through and was able to report what had happened.

"Killercraft pilot, do you need to abort the mission?" The operator questioned. He considered it for a few moments before giving a negative answer. Enough males had been lost already; they had to make sure there were no more.

"We will continue on and destroy the base." Teerts decided. "All killercraft, form up behind me."

"Understood." The rest of the pilots answered.

"You are in charge now, killercraft pilot." The controller acknowledged. "Report once you complete the mission." The location of the base was still locked into their navigation computers and quickly directed them back of course. It took them only a few minutes to reach their target.

It was only a small base, almost insultingly so. Teerts could only see a few buildings including only four what he assumed was hangers and what looked like a radar. The base itself was built on a flat mountain top, its runway extending over the open sky with supports built into the mountainside holding it up. Bright traces of light started flying towards them in irregular patterns- Tosevite anti-aircraft gunfire, he had to guess.

"Someone strike those supports holding the end of the runway up." Teerts ordered. "The rest of you, bomb the buildings." The other 3 pilots had no reason to not follow his orders, and one dipped low so he could fire his ground attack missiles at the supports while the rest rose to attack. Teerts chose to aim for the gun firing at them; he could see it by a large building next to the radar.

He headed straight for it, using the camera on the nose of his craft to lock onto the gun. It was a small enough target to warrant use of his air to ground missiles; he could easily strike the buildings with his unguided bombs. He fired the missile as it locked on and watched it speed towards the gun and destroy it in a ball of fire.

The bombs required a little more effort. He had to make sure his killercraft was aligned with the buildings for one and he couldn't release them all at once or they'd all land in the same place. Fortunately, his computer had a visual cue on where they would land. As soon as the target passed over the first building, he released two bombs. When it passed over the radar a mere second later, he released two more. He then sped off, listening to the sound of the detonations of multiple bombs behind him that created a great orange light on the edges of his vision.

Teerts was the only one to turn around to assess the damage, and made a sound of mirth. The male who had fired at the supports did a superb job and Teerts looked fast enough to see the end part of the runway snap off and slide down the mountain. The building and radar he'd aimed for were destroyed, as were two of the hangers. One pilot had aimed for what might've been storage building for weaponry and the rest had dropped bombs right on the runway, cratering it. Part of it was still standing, but the base could never launch killercraft again.

"It is done." Teerts stated to the other pilots before radioing it in.

"Excellent work, killercraft pilot." The operator on the other end praised. "I will be sure to include in the report your efforts to complete the task. If your munitions are low, you may return to your starship at this time and please avoid the flight paths of other ships."

"It shall be done." Teerts answered. His first fight against the Tosevites had just ended, and there was a chance it would be his only fight before they wisely gave up the fight. It had been…exhilarating, especially in that moment of the chase. Teerts had only been a delivery driver on Home before a Soldiers Time had been declared and he'd joined the Conquest Fleet, but he had to admit flying killercraft was a lot more enjoyable.

But it wasn't worth the cost, as far as he was concerned. It was for the best that this war would be over soon. Perhaps when the Race set up a proper civilization on this planet, Teerts could look into continuing being a pilot. It was something to think about; he really did like the feeling.

X Griswall Harbor, Aurelia. December 11th X

Griswall had always been a fixture in Auerlia's history, and not just as the small nation's Capital. The city had grown with the nation- there were still structures from the 1700s standing proudly besides the more modern sky scrapers being built as the nation sought to modernize itself. The city was a living example of progress and a symbol of pride for the people.

One had to wonder if these invaders knew that as they mercilessly bombed the city.

"Bastards." Aurelian Navy Commander Maria Fierro snarled as a sky scraper on the skyline started to collapse. The 43 year old woman was approaching 20 years in the service, all them peaceful. Those years seemed like a distant memory now, as she stood in the bridge the ship under her command, the ANS _Valentia,_ watching her nation being attacked.

It was an Arleigh-Burke class destroyer, one of the nearly 90 warships Osea had sold off to the southern and eastern countries in the last decade as it downscaled after years of buildup. It was only a Flight I model, non-upgraded in other words. Not the most advanced warship in Aurelian stock, but the nine the Navy had bought had really increased its capabilities.

Her ship, along with the rest of the Aurelian 3rd Fleet including the battleship _Santa Elva_ had been ordered to Griswall the moment the first ships were spotted and staying there until the first strike occurred. She'd witnessed the EMPs go off from here and the chaos it had caused in the Capital. It had taken them four hours to get the ship back to full capabilities. But Griswall itself had remained un-attacked, only due to the sacrifice of the entire 2nd Fleet in the south.

That was a low blow for the Navy. That carrier had been bought in a mothballed state from Osea, and the country had worked to refurbish it themselves, purchasing and building aircraft specifically for it. She'd been undergoing trials for the past year, and it seemed obvious the Chiefs of Staff would assign it to the 3rd Fleet. Now it was gone, having been rushed into service and sunk defending the rest of the country.

And now their new enemy had apparently landed, although fortunately not in the north near Griswall, and reports were flooding in about ground forces rushing through the country. One ship was said to have landed in the Puna Plains, in Aurelia's sparsely populated southwestern half. Another had landed just north of the southeastern city of Santa Elva and Aurelia's second largest city was now under direct attack. That gave the Commander a great reason to worry.

Resting in the right side pocket of her battle uniform was a well-worn photograph. It showed the commander as a much younger woman who still had color in her hair, standing next to a taller man with dark hair with a smiling little girl propped on his shoulders. But the picture was years outdated. Her husband was dead, killed in an oil rig accident four years ago. Her little girl was eleven now and living with her grandmother from her father's side…in Santa Elva.

She'd only able to call them once, a hurried phone call while the destroyer had been charging through the sea to reach the Capital. She'd only had time to tell her mother in law to keep her safe and told her daughter to follow her grandmother's instructions and that she'd be home as soon as she could. The EMPs had ensured that was the only conversation they'd had.

The stress of that was probably the reason for her lack of sleep in the past few days. She had no idea if they'd managed to escape. Highway 1 ran along the coast from Griswall all the way to Santa Elva, and a lot of traffic had been flooding into the Capital in the past couple of hours. She could only hope they were part of the masses that had left before the town was cut off.

But even that carried risks. That highway was the fastest way these new invaders could reach the Capital by land. Between Santa Elva and Griswall was Mount Nevera, a great mountain that meant reaching Griswall from the south required using one of the two highways that ran along the coasts. There were talks of ordering the Navy to destroy some of the bridges that made up its length to limit the enemy to using Highway 3, which ran from Griswall to and down the west coast. It would delay the enemy and make defending the Capital easier, but the civilian casualties…

Another concern lay to their north. There wasn't much word out of Leasath, but it could be deduced the enemy had landed there too. For once, Aurelia was glad for their militaristic neighbor. They could hope they'd prevent the aliens from crossing the southern border and reaching Griswall. Just in case though, the _Santa Elva_ and an escort of four ships had been sent up the coastline to watch the highway that connected the two nations.

That left the rest of the 3rd Fleet- two destroyers and a frigate- to defend Griswall. By reason of seniority, Commander Fierro was leading the detachment. Unfortunately, her hands were limited to as what they could do. The ships main strength here was bolstering the air defenses, but that only counted if the enemy aircraft came near them. As it was, the enemy only seemed to be striking the city over land. They could see them on radar, but the buildings in the way meant they couldn't fire.

It was frustrating, to say the least.

"It's still a mess out there." That was Lieutenant Vasquez, the officer who had the bridge. Since the Commander had come up though, he'd been trying to collect as much information as possible about the broader situation.

"Anything new?" The commander asked.

"Just some news from Leasath. Their Supreme Commander has ordered every soldier and citizen to fight to the death and not give up a single piece of land to the enemy." Fierro's mouth twisted a bit at that news. Leasathians were proud people, but she was sure that would result in a massacre. "And there's worse news on top of that."

"Go on." Her mouth tightened.

"Two ships landed in southwest Leasath, less than thirty miles from the border. We could be looking at a two front war." He admitted grimly. Only a brief exhale of air from her nostrils betrayed her stress over that.

"Ma'am!" A sailor shouted. "We just got a call from Army scouts along Highway 1- Ten unidentified aircraft flying up the coast this way. Bearing 3-5-4; they'll be coming right over the harbor."

"Are they attacking the highway?" She immediately asked.

"Negative. They're just flying this way."

"Relay to Lieutenant Martin in CIC and the other ships then and tell them to fire as soon as they can. I don't want those bastards to even see the city." She ordered. The _Valentia_ was located at the edge of the harbor, close to the open sea. The destroyer _Valor_ was in the harbor near one of the docks. The frigate _Mina_ was in the deepest part of the harbor, right at the mouth of one of the canals that ran through the city. That gave them an overlapping weapon's range that would hit anything approaching from the south.

"Lieutenant Martin says SPY has them 40 miles out. _Valor_ has them as well. _Mina_ is not picking them up though. They're asking if they should relocate."

"The destroyers will be enough." She decided. "Tell them to stay where they are."

"Understood." Captain Fierro turned her eyes to the front VLS (Vertical Launch System) and watched the lids open. The destroyer could carry up to 90 missiles total of various types, giving it an extremely wide range of capabilities to carry out its purpose of defending larger ships from multiple threats. Their standard compliment was 6 anti-submarine missiles (virtually useless now), 24 anti-ship missiles, and 60 anti-air missiles. The reason for the large number of anti-air missiles was the fact that while their purpose was aircraft, they could still be launched against warships.

A cloud of smoke erupted as three of the missiles launched from their silos and into the sky. A quick glance saw two more launch from the _Valor_. "Standards are away."

A few screens in the bridge relayed information from the CIC. In this day in age, ships always engaged targets from beyond visual range. More often than not you could only tell via radar whether or not you hit your mark. The bridge crew all watched as the blips representing the missiles closed in on the arrows indicated the enemy aircraft. The seconds ticked by as the two closed in on each.

Several blips disappeared as the two groups intercepted. "Four enemy aircraft down." CIC reported. That meant six left, now only 34 miles away from them. Both ships launched another volley of two missiles each, and again all eyes were locked on the screen showing the two groups approaching. The enemy was savvier this time, and the arrows separated and even on radar appeared to be making jerkier movements before the two blips intercepted again and several disappeared.

"That's three more!" CIC reported. The enemy was less than 30 miles away now. Captain Fierro watched as the remaining three arrows start to turn around. It looked like the enemy didn't want to put up with the long range fire. "They're running." CIC confirmed. "They're still in engagement range. Orders?"

"Down them." Captain Fierro ordered without hesitation. A final two missiles launched from the _Valentia_ and spread off south. The enemy was flying off and the missiles only had so far a range, but they had speed. The missiles managed to catch up to the fleeing craft and the bridge watched again as the groups intersected.

"Two hits confirmed. That's nine aircraft total!" CIC reported. "We sent them packing!"

Clapping and cheering erupted in the bridge. Fierro joined in for only a moment before ordering the information of the engagement forwarded to command in the city. If the enemy was going to start attacking from the east as well, they needed to know. But for now Aurelia's Navy had won a victory to start avenging its loss.

But this war was far from over. The enemy was still to the south, and they would be back. But the Aurelian Navy would be there to meet them. They would beat back any attack on the Capital and then they'd retake their country. Of that, Captain Fierro was absolutely certain.


	7. Chapter 7

XX A/N XX

As embarrassing as this is, I will admit I've made an error. I recently edited chapter 2 and made some corrections to Mobius 1's backstory, as I had him in service during when the First Usean Continental War took place in the first draft. If he had been, the rebellion either would've collapsed faster or he'd have taken the spotlight instead of Phoenix.

X Southern Estovakia, December 11th, 2010 X

Two peninsulas jutted out of southern Estovakia into the sea: The Skoynia Peninsula in the eastern half and the Ospech Peninsula in the western half. Both had had thriving ports that connected Estovakia with the rest of the world, and the headquarters of the old Estovakian Navy had been located in the sea between the two strips of land. When the Civil War started, the Skoynia Peninsula had fallen under Eastern Faction control while the Ospech fell under a minor factions rule until they joined with the LUF. But these days both were secondary fronts where piracy rather than actual warfare was carried out.

Lorenz Riedel had found himself posted to the eastern peninsula for nearly a year now, any threats from his past countrymen having failed to materialize. He'd been questioned by the Eastern Faction's intelligence division on his county's interest in him though, but he hadn't been given a reason and none of his fellow Belkans wrote him about any problems or difficulties. They knew the Belkans were felons, but they still kept them employed. He'd been paranoid for the weeks following that encounter, and worried; there were other Belkans Riedel knew but had lost track off after fleeing Osea, including other members of Gault Squadron. Were they hunted too? Whatever his fears, the war continued.

As the Eastern Faction's small cadre of carrier capable pilots dwindled along with carrier capable aircraft, the rest had been transferred to land based squadrons and the carrier mothballed until the Eastern Faction had the resources to train more pilots for it. It wasn't so bad- Riedel stayed in command of the four other pilots that had come off the carrier with him and had even gotten a promotion to a full Commander in the Eastern Faction's Navy.

Their mission, along with that of two other squadrons and even a bomber squadron transferred to the peninsula, was to bomb LUF troops and supplies coming in on the opposite peninsula. For a year they'd been at it insistently, sinking dozens of ships and bombing anti-air sites that sprung up every other day. Riedel had wondered about the intensity The Generals ordered the bombings with until just last week when he'd met one of his fellow countryman on base one morning.

The former paratrooper, now a colonel in the Eastern Faction Army, had shown up at the base alongside several transport planes and battalions of Estovakian paratroopers. It turned out Riedel and the other pilots had been helping soften the way for an intended airborne and amphibious assault of the Ospech Peninsula, a 40,000 man effort that intended to cut off the LUF's last connection to the rest of the world and bring badly needed prosperity to the Eastern Faction controlled areas.

Except now it had all gone to hell.

Perhaps it had because Riedel had been drinking the night previous with the younger pilots, but he'd woken up more than a little confused about the rambling of aliens in the sky and had needed several minutes and one cold shower to fully grasp the situation. Aliens! Riedel had been more interested in fantasy tales growing up, fascinated with the old lore of Medieval Belka. The science fiction genre popularized by Osea had always struck him as ridiculous.

But it was real alright, and more then deadly. They'd all been gripped by the information till the first attack came only a few days later. The EMPs had sent the locals into a panic, and the Eastern Faction's communication systems here were too old to have been protected from such attacks, this being a second front and all. The planes, fortunately, were either protected or had spare parts on hand to bring them quickly back into working order. With communication to the rest of Estovakia broken though, the local forces had no idea what to do. Air patrols had continued to be sent up, as had been their orders after the first sighting, but no threat materialized. It had been a dark and tense night.

Finally, after the sun had risen, they'd received news when planes from the squadron based furthest south had landed at the base: the enemy had bombed and landed at the tip of the peninsula and they were heading this way. That had gotten the local forces moving.

Riedel's countryman, Colonel Steir, had rallied the paratroopers and locals into fortifying the area south of the air base. In just half a day, a massive ten foot wide trench stretching a distance of five miles had gone up in front of the base and it was being made longer every minute. Riedel knew just as he did such a fortification would either stop or slow down a mobilized enemy force- at least till they found an end to flank around.

But they truthfully had no idea if their enemy would even use the same tactics as the Oseans. The southern squadron, which had flown north to alert higher command, hadn't been able to tell them much. These men and this air base was the first line of defensive against invaders they didn't understand. They needed intelligence and confirmation.

Riedel had volunteered. He was curious. And besides, the idea of an advanced foe sparked some old instinct in him. Rarely had he faced other fighters in this country, and when he did they were decades old carts flown by incompetent pilots. It was nothing like during the Belkan War, various kinds of planes in exciting engagements at high speed that twisted through the sky, fighting in a state of hyper alertness where you could sense _everything_ … He had not felt that wonderful feeling in such a long time. There was no guarantee he'd even find aircraft down here, but none the less a foe who could travel the stars was surely advanced enough to offer a challenge?

"Commander, we're only 130 miles from the tip of the peninsula." Riedel was not alone on this recon. Several yards behind his Su-33 to the left was another Su-33, the only other one in his little squadron and one of the few that hadn't gone to the Eastern Faction's pet Stringon and Vampire Squadrons. The rest of the planes in Riedel's squadron, not to mention the bulk of the Eastern Faction's now depleted Naval Aviation, were F-4s, an old plane that persisted even today due in part to the fact thousands of planes and parts had been produced and exported by multiple countries. Not that they were bad planes- they could still hold out in aerial combat and those in Reidel's squadron were experts at destroying enemy AA and ships- but for this particular mission he preferred the speed of the newer carrier jets.

"I am aware, Lieutenant Romanov. And yet we have not seen our mysterious enemy." At only 21, Romanov was actually Reidel's youngest subordinate. Between the Ulysses impact and Estovakia's total collapse, the carrier trained pilots they had had were laid off and either disappeared or perished in the civil collapse that followed, so when the Eastern Faction seized the carriers, they had to train new ones. Those days were gone now, most of the Eastern Faction's resources now going towards the Aerial Fleet instead of its conventional forces, or so Riedel's fellow Belkans hinted in their letters.

When they had still been doing that, Romanov had been one of them; the Eastern Faction wasn't picky when it came to things like age. Apparently, his brother had been a former Navy helicopter pilot, killed during a food riot when the LUF tried starving the population into submission. Revenge had been his primary reason for joining, and Riedel would bet it still was now, sprinkled with that sense of nationalism that was pounded into Estovakians here. He'd only ever regarded his Belkan superior with polite, rank required courtesy, an attitude Riedel was almost always regarded with. But he was a very capable pilot- how else could he get his hands on one of the rarer planes the Eastern Faction had. Not that he'd had much of a chance to face an enemy in the air though.

The junior pilot muttered something that Riedel couldn't make out over the radio. Riedel chose to keep focused on the horizon in front of them. Something as big as a spaceship was bound to be noticeable.

While not as big, what was equally noticeable was movement below. The planes were maintaining a steady altitude of 4,000 feet. But even from here they could see movement on a highway below. Cars or, more often, masses of people heading north. Fleeing just as the other squadron had. The scared and defenseless fleeing an invasion, just like in South Belka after the war changed…

"Those people…" Lieutenant Romanov was an impatient man, perhaps he could even be described as angry. But he definitely believed in the cause of restoring Estovakia and saving its people. That image had to be just as painful to him, if not more.

"They are safe for now." Riedel calmed him. "But they're certainly fleeing from something."

"Grr." Romanov growled. "Commander, do you have any idea why these things would invade us?" Riedel snorted at the question, cynicism and dormant ideology coming back to him.

"Foolish reasons only, lieutenant. Resources? Living space? Something as meaningless as more territory? Invasions are ordered for the most pointless reasons." The answer made the younger officer go quiet for a few moments.

"Whatever their goal, I won't allow them to humiliate Estovakia." He pledged. "Even if the rest of the world falls, my country will remain free." A true patriot to his country. Riedel no longer knew that feeling, but he remembered how it could drive men to do the impossible- or foolish choices that would get them killed.

 _Look at me being cynical_. He realized. Riedel had spent his entire tour here in Estovakia as a serious soldier, concerned only with training the men he commanded and completing the missions. It would be dangerous to think back to his old beliefs, they-

His radar suddenly warned him it had picked up unidentified air contacts. His eyes snapped to the display- ten total in a triangle formation south east of them, heading north. The craft must of noticed them as well, because they were already turned towards the two Flankers' direction.

 _These craft must have good radar._ He realized, greater than theirs apparently. Of course, the Su-33's radar had its shortcomings, so it wasn't too good a base for comparison.

"Commander!"

"I see them lieutenant. Keep your missiles armed. We have no reason to doubt their intentions."

"Yes sir!" The Su-33, Yuktobania's first successfully developed carrier capable fighter, wasn't the most advanced plane Riedel had ever flown, but he found it adequate for combat, carrying ten missiles and having a top speed over Mach 2 and the maneuverability characteristic of Yuktobanian aircraft.

Anti-air munitions were hard to get in Estovakia at the moment though, and weapons for the secondary fronts even harder. As a result, both planes were only armed with four missiles each: R-27Rs, a semi-active radar guided missile. Ground attack weaponry was easier by comparison, and both planes had two rocket pods mounted underwing, not that they'd be useful here.

"Commander, orders?" Romanov sounded just a bit nervous, and Riedel didn't blame him. He'd never seen a group of aircraft that large, and neither had Riedel for many years. Romanov's only aerial victories were solo fights against two MiG-21s and an F-4, old planes who hadn't been too much of a challenge. There was only so much Riedel had taught the pilots under his command, but nothing could really beat actual experience.

"Hmm…" Riedel had already realized they were outnumbered and outgunned, possibly even less experienced. Even if all their missiles shot down a craft, they'd still have two left. They had their guns, but that was a gamble. But they'd come to get information on this enemy. "Hmm."

"Commander?" Romanov asked again.

"Correct your course to 2-2-0." Riedel ordered. "Keep your distance while I go in for a closer look." He turned his own plane head on towards the enemy. "If I'm shot down, return to base and warn them."

"What?" The lieutenant was surprised by his answer and turned to stay behind him.

"That's a direct order." Riedel warned. "It'll be no use to your country if we both die here."

"…Be careful, sir." The junior pilot responded after a moment and finally obeyed the instruction. The younger man out of harm's way, Riedel pushed forward the throttle and increased his speed, raising his altitude up in case the enemy happened to be above him. Between his speed and theirs, they'd reach each other fairly quickly. Despite what he was doing, the Belkan ace wasn't particularly scared or worried. He'd survived many times against numerically superior Osean squadrons, so he was confident in his ability to survive close enough to the enemy to observe them.

Riedel was already making his observations. There were ten aircraft. Was that a unit of organization? Their speed was just over 700 miles per hour, transonic speed. Was that their max? Or were they simply not in a hurry to reach them?

He grunted to himself when three of the arrows separated and turned slightly towards lieutenant Romanov at a heading that would put them in front of the other fighter. He quickly banked his own craft to cut them off. "Watch yourself, lieutenant."

"I see them commander." The little green arrow representing Romanov turned in the direction of the alien aircraft. "They'll be in engagement range soon." The R-27 could lock onto a target forty miles away; a beyond visual range (BVR) kill. But that gave an enemy time to evade or deploy countermeasures, hence why pilots in the old Belkan Air Force, or most air forces for that matter, liked to get up and close to an enemy before blowing them out of the sky with short range weaponry.

"Lieutenant." Riedel warned. They had no idea how those aircraft attacked. Humans had managed to make planes equipped with long range laser systems and ECMs that functioned like a literal force field. How much more could beings who manage to travel the stars do? "Do not charge those craft, we-"

Riedel stopped as his ears were filled with a sound he scarcely ever heard: the annoying buzz of his radar warning receiver. Something potentially dangerous was tracking him by radar. The sound was replaced by something far more grating as the missile alert warning went off.

 _Radar guided missiles?_ Riedel thought. A quick glance at the radar told him a trio of missiles had been fired at him from the other seven alien craft- and they were closing fast. He swore in Belkan and immediately deployed chaff. Whether those missiles were semi-active guided or actively guided, that would hopefully distract them. _And from 60 miles away._ He realized. Not the furthest range he'd ever seen on a missile, but it was decent- not to mention greater than their own.

"Lieutenant, change your course!" Riedel ordered. "Their engagement range is greater than ours!"

"Commander?" That warning seemed to grab the younger man's attention. But Riedel didn't have a chance to immediately respond; one of the missiles hadn't been fooled and was still chasing him down. The closer a missile was, the more likely a sharp maneuver would dislodge it from tracking you. This at the dangerous cost of letting it get close.

But it could never be said that any pilot in the Belkan Air Force was ever afraid of danger. He eased off on his speed and applied the break. The missile warning alarms went even crazier and just when they were at their highest repetition, Riedel banked down and do his left.

The move worked. Riedel evened out his craft less than two hundred feet below and watched up to see the missile keep going in a straight line before eventually detonating in midair harmlessly. _This isn't very different from our own technology._ He thought, mindful that his plane was still being tracked. His own life out of danger for a brief moment, he looked back to his radar.

"Lieutenant?" Riedel called over the radio. He could still see Romanov's plane on radar. He wasn't trying to flee the battle zone, but more looked like he was trying to fly around the enemy who's gotten closer during Riedel's evasion.

"I just dodged a few missiles, but they're still tracking me, commander!" No sooner had his subordinate said that did Riedel's missile warning alarms start blaring again. Riedel stayed calm and increased his speed still towards Romanov and the three craft.

"Evade and don't let them lock on. I'll get them off you." Riedel had increased his speed only to get closer to Romanov quickly- no normal plane could outrun a missile. To evade this time, Riedel once again waited for the missiles to close in. As they closed in, he dived for just a few seconds before pulling back up. Missiles were fast, but they weren't as maneuverable as most planes, Yuktobanian made ones especially. The ploy sent the missiles streaking downwards harmlessly.

Romanov's erratic movements kept him safe until Riedel closed in far enough to get a lock on one of the alien planes. With his subordinate in danger, Riedel didn't bother closer in further and launched one of his missiles and watched it take off into the distance. Riedel had to keep his lock on the alien plane or else the missile would lose its target. Only after a few seconds Riedel watched one of the blips disappear from radar.

"Bandit down." Riedel stated calmly and almost mechanically switched over to tracking a second plane. Just as he got a lock though, the track ended as the blip disappeared from radar. Riedel was even close enough to see the little flash of an explosion in the distance.

"I shot one down!" Romanov called.

"I saw lieutenant. Good job." Riedel complemented while his mind worked. They hadn't been able to dodge a long range missile, something that while not easy was certainly very possible for even bombers or transports. Romanov's survival and kill showed that they weren't all that great in a close up fight either.

Another glance at the radar told him the other seven planes weren't far behind him. At most, he had less than a minute before they were in firing range again. There was one enemy plane left tangling with Romanov. He could go in for a close look, shoot it down, and they could both speed the hell out of there. He relayed the plan to his subordinate and made it clear they weren't going to bother with the main bulk of the squadron.

Then Riedel ordered Romanov to change his heading north and ease up on his maneuvering. What Riedel was doing was a trick Belkan pilots had played on many hot blooded Oseans during the opening days of the Belkan War: One plane would bait the enemy into focusing exclusively on them while another fighter came up behind to destroy it with the gun. Most of the time the enemy pilot would be in flames before realizing they'd been tricked. With all other signs pointing to inexperience, Riedel decided to try his luck.

And it worked. Romanov had successfully baited the enemy plane to following him north, allowing Riedel to pull up behind the two, closing in on the back of the alien fighter.

Riedel immediately noticed that the plane was a twin engine fighter and from the back reminiscent of a MiG-29 in this mind. That that's where the similarities ended. It had a delta wing style body rather than the swept wings common of most fighters, and was actually pretty wide. That explained why the lieutenant had managed to survive his close encounter; at low speeds, those types of aircraft weren't very maneuverable.

Riedel tried to spot any form of identification: a roundel, a squadron insignia, or a flag. There were some symbols on the side, but whether they were words or numbers Riedel couldn't tell. But of course, it wouldn't be in a human language.

All those observations were made in just half a minute, and it was apparent there was nothing else worth learning at the moment. Riedel selected his gun and waited patiently while the alien fighter weaved and turned in front of him trying to follow the more flexible moves of the other Su-33. Riedel ordered his wingman to break, and the lieutenant effortless rolled out of the way. In the brief moment before the enemy realized their target had gotten away, Riedel fired and watched as 30mm rounds assailed the enemy.

Riedel made one last observation when the enemy plane didn't violently explode as was common when bullets tore into an engine being fed fuel. Perhaps that meant something, but there was little time to dwell.

"North lieutenant, as fast as we can." And they were off, racing home at low altitude as the enemy fell further and further behind them on radar. It was odd; delta wing aircraft usually served as interceptors and were supposed to be fast.

Whether it was their speed or if the enemy just wasn't interested in chasing them, the contacts fell out of range within five minutes of their fleeing. "Commander." Romanov spoke up as soon as they were safe. "We need to head back to base, rearm, and launch the other planes."

"We are five planes, lieutenant. They are clearly many more, whoever they are." That question remained unanswered, unfortunately. But while Riedel was confident in his abilities, he knew taking pilots in mostly outdated planes with little air to air experience against a larger enemy would be a move that could get them killed. They needed a home advantage, like the anti-air defenses around the air base. Or at the least wait to see if the Eastern Faction sent more forces here, assuming they had any to spare.

"But they will eventually come anyway!" His subordinate protested.

"If they do, then we will fight them." Riedel answered calmly. The knowledge a vastly numerically superior enemy was preparing to advance upon you…Riedel was feeling a lot of familiar old emotions today. "We will return to base and wait, lieutenant, and see what develops." He got some static after that, and he imagined the lieutenant had shut off his radio momentarily so he could violently swear without being heard.

Riedel stayed calm. Even after encountering their off planet foe, he found it would take a considerable effort to be concerned. Though obviously other worldly, there was still a familiarity to them. Besides, Riedel had seen a lot in his time on this planet, including when he'd helped to try and destroy it. When a man had done that, was there anything left that could pierce his demeanor? Apparently not.

Still, as common as war was in the world, this certainly seemed like it'd shape up to be the most interesting. But for now, they could only wait and see what happened. Odds were it wouldn't be long before they were in the air again.

X Molach Desert, Emmeria. December 12th 2010 X

Owing to developing on a planet of great barren land, Race military strategy had developed to be mechanized and highly mobile. It was based heavily on armored vehicles that could transport firepower, males, and supplies great distances over rough terrain. The centerpiece vehicle in this concept was the landcruiser: an armored vehicle on treads equipped with an auto-loading 127mm cannon capable of rotating via a turret. It had a crew of three: a commander, the gunner who manned the cannon, and a driver who drove the machine based on the commander's instructions.

Ussmak was a male who held the later most role. Outwardly, he wasn't very different from the millions of other males across the Empire, or from the thousands of other Ussmak's that had and did already exist. But he was actually making history as one of the males in the Conquest Fleet, something prestigious and rare in their history. Though history probably wouldn't remember him specifically thousands of years from now, he'd have been a male on par with those who explored Home in the days before unification and those who'd brought their Empire's perfect governance and culture to new planets in the past.

He wasn't alone of course. He was serving with two other males in his assigned landcruiser: Telerep, a gunner, and Votol, their landcruiser commander. There were dozens of other males in the small landcruiser unit he was assigned to, and thousands assigned to the large combat group he was a part of. But it was very obvious they were all part of something much bigger. Ussmak for one was excited to be a part of it all.

Curiosity was a part of that excitement. Not just to explore this new planet, but to encounter the Tosevite's they'd been warned about. A lot was being said about this strange new species, and a lot of males were curious to see for themselves. They'd apparently grown technologically at an extreme rate and now had landcruisers of their own! Ussmak had seen some of the examples apparently native to the empire they were currently in: _Emmeria_. Some certainly looked like landcruisers, but some designs looked ridiculous. One he'd seen, and had been laughed at by most of the landcruiser males, was a six wheeled vehicle with a cannon on it. Yes, these natives had grown, but they were obviously behind The Race still.

The large combat group they were part of was one of the nine that were to deploy south towards the capital of this empire: _Gracemeria_. According to the intelligence males, the name translated to 'peaceful city. Ironic that a species still at war with itself could come up with a name like that. But that was their objective, and as males in the service of The Emperor, they'd capture it.

But before they did that, there were preparations that had to be completed. Landcruiser, troopcarrier, and helicopter crews had to check their vehicles one last time. Infantry males had to ensure they had all the necessary equipment issued and working. Unit leaders had to study and memorize their orders and maneuvers as to not conflict with the other forces. Only once that was done could the group move out.

The desert sun blasted pleasantly down on Ussmak as he examined the engine. Although the temperature was cooler than he expected of a desert, it was still a desert they were in. Oddly, not a whole lot seemed to have been built around here. Most of it was open land and hills that were now being used as staging ground. It would make a good place for building once the Colonization Fleet arrived.

"Driver, is our engine is in working order?" Votol asked from atop the landcruiser. Telerep was inside checking the main gun. The engine itself was powered by hydrogen, like a lot of Race machinery. Clean, quiet, and efficient. The only difference was it was bigger to move such a heavy vehicle.

"Yes superior sir, just as the maintenance males said." Ussmak responded with the proper response. Those males were responsible for the landcruiser when it wasn't deployed, but in the actual field it was the crew's responsibility, so Ussmak had learned quite a bit about it as part of training.

He shut the engine compartment door and climbed up on the landcruiser. "Remarkable, isn't it?" Votol asked, looking around. "I never thought I'd witness such a display." All around them were all the other landcruisers -149- in the large combat group. A little ways off were infantry males assembled in body armor, helmets, and pouches loaded with munitions. Helicopters could be seen behind them closer to the starships, and killercraft were flying overhead in several directions. It was a sight very few males had or would ever see, and for that reason is was even more interesting.

"It is." Ussmak agreed at the massive image of power. "I pity the Tosevites if they choose to oppose us."

"Do not." His commander said dismissively. "Whatever suffering they experience, they will be better off in the end. With males like us, this will be over quickly."

"Truth." Ussmak nodded. He'd trained with all members of their unit before leaving Home, and he was quite fond of Votol. He was a sensible and social male that got along with everyone else while staying proper to his post. Once the conquest was done and over and the Conquest Fleet disbanded, Ussmak wouldn't mind at all staying friends with his commander.

"Superior sir, the cannon is ready for combat." Telerep popped his head out of the turret hatch.

"Then we are ready."

It was another 1/10th of the day before the rest of the group was ready though, but it was eventually done. Everything was prepared, all crewmembers and infantry males were in their vehicles. Radio channels had been set and tuned into. They'd been given permission to deploy by the shiplord in command of the group. All that left was to actually do so.

Morale was high. Every single male was eager to move out. Many were already talking about how soon the fighting would be over and how they'd pass the time until the Colonization Fleet arrived. The amount of energy was uncharacteristic to The Race, but none of them could deny how good it felt.

Finally they departed. The helicopters flew out first, and the landcruisers next in front of the troopcarriers. Over two hundred vehicles headed south, only part of a larger force that would wrest control of this planet from its native inhabitants.

The radio was tuned only to the other nine landcruisers in their unit, but they could still hear the higher ranking commanders. As they moved out, the leader of all landcruiser forces in their large combat group gave a simple order that was meant more for encouragement, but it was one Ussmak would remember in many different ways in the future.

"On the Emperor's orders, forward males! To _Gracemeria_!"

X Kirwin Islands, northwest Osea. December 13th, 2010 X

The senior officers of the _Kestral,_ the pilots of Wardog Squadron, and the President of the Osean Federation all stood in the bridge that morning and watched the TV playing images from the last 24 hours. Air battles over Osea, massive ships landing throughout the country, strange desert grey tanks opening fire on Osean police officers who'd made the feeble attempt to stop them. It was a complete invasion. They didn't have any footage, but they'd been told the same was true in Yuktobania and virtually every country in the world.

"What could they want?" President Harling wondered out loud. Behind him stood the three survivors of Wardog Squadron. Andrew had set a hand of Nagase's shoulder when she'd clenched her fists earlier and still was even as they turned white. She hated war. They all hated war, and especially the war they'd fought now that they knew the truth behind it. But now, the whole world was at war.

The Belkan Grey Men were just as startled by it as they were, which didn't do much to improve their mood. The Arkbird was gone, and they'd pulled back every man they had to Belka proper. Any will to push Osea and Yuktobania to a war to the death was gone. The only thing that mattered to them was defending their home now; they were no longer an immediate threat.

That left Wardog's survivors in an unsure state. Just days ago they'd been ready to covertly fight the Grey Men, exposing them to the world, ending the fighting, and sparing millions of Osean and Yuktobanian troops and civilians needless deaths hundreds of thousands had already experienced. But now Osea itself was occupied, its (admittedly illegitimate) government uprooted and people suppressed. Yuktobania had been invaded too, and those millions now risked being killed by an even greater enemy, one whose power was beyond anything the world had ever known.

Where did they go from there?

That was for President Harling to decide. He was the rightful leader of Osea and its military even if he had been disposed of. But he'd been indecisive since they rescued him. The Kestrel's battle group was all he had, and that was little: One carrier and four pilots, a cruiser, two destroyers, a frigate, and an unarmed intelligence gathering ship with about 30 Marines between all of them. How did they battle a global threat with just that? Even as the rest of the world was now desperately fighting, they remained in their quiet little place of peace in Osea's northwest islands.

But they did have a means to fight by way of a Belkan container ship, filled with 4th and 5th generation aircraft and weapons, mostly ones used by the Osean Military. They were apparently going to Yuktobania; they guessed they wanted to try a different strategy. But the crew were being held in the carrier's brig, and the planes now belonged to them.

It did answer a few questions though, such as why Yuktobania had been using so many Osean aircraft at some points during the war. Sure, some aircraft were used by both countries, namely designs and complete planes that had been taken from Belka after the war. Yuktobania's entire Naval Aviation after the war was based on F-14s they'd gotten as reparations. And Yuktobania had managed to trick Osea into selling them a few dozen various aircraft during the Cold War and for all they knew had bought a lot of old planes Osea put up for sale globally after the Cold War ended. But Wardog had fought F/A-18Es and F-35s among other newer planes, and at some point during the advance a report had surfaced about F/A-22s with Yuke markings. Grunder had been selling to both sides as part of the Grey Men's plans, it seemed.

Curiously, there were also a pair of X-02 Wyverns in two of the containers. Those were Usean made planes, like the Tornado, Typhoon, Mirage, or Rafale families. The Usean nations did sell those planes to other nations, and Osea and Yuktobania had bought a few to try and bolster relations, but they kept the production rights to their own industries and had steadfast refused selling the X-02 except to other Usean nations.

Even more curious, Pops, their mechanic who'd fled Sand Island with them, had claimed that a shot down Yuktobanian X-02 had been held at Sand Island for a few days before being moved to the mainland. It implied this whole conspiracy reached further than they realized, but it had taken secondary priority to the Grey Men and mattered even less now. But the point was Wardog had the equipment to keep fighting.

But until they were called on again to battle, they rested. Their bodies were still sore and odds are only spending an entire month asleep would relieve all the tiredness and aches they'd gotten. With the carrier so empty, they could all afford their own separate rooms.

Andrew wasn't getting much rest though. Even days after the revelation, he was still grasping at the fact the war up till now had been a lie. All three of them were. It put everything that they'd seen and everything that they'd done in a whole different light.

Between fighters, bombers, transports, and helicopters, Wardog had collectively shot down over four hundred Yuktobanian aircraft. During the initial Yuktobanian attacks they'd sunk approximately fourteen ships and later both ballistic submarines. They'd bombed countless ground positions across Yuktobania during the advance.

They'd killed thousands, and it wouldn't be surprising if the body count reached into five digits. So many lives ended not to defend their country, but because of the schemes of evil people who were too stubborn to accept their defeat from their own bad decisions. Could they really say they weren't at fault after inflicting so much? It seemed impossible in Andrew's mind.

He knew Nagase didn't believe they weren't responsible. She'd been reclusive since they learned the truth, and even more after word of the invasion came. But while Andrews disliked war, she out right hated it in any form. And now space, the peaceful opportunity to humanity she'd adored so much, had even turned against them. He was truly concerned for her.

Grimm seemed to be handling things well compared to his fellow squadron mates. He had a good heart, and he'd always been surprised at his own skills in the cockpit of a plane, so it was a bit surprising. Was he disturbed by the information just like the rest of them? Yes, but not enough to cause a personal crises. But he came from a military family, so maybe he was more conditioned to how horrible war could be.

Now the aliens… Come to conquer them, it seemed. War even came from the stars, the same stars they'd neglected ever since Ulysses came and wiped out a lot of their previous efforts. Was there really a way to stop war? Or was it just doomed to always happen? Even though it gave Andrews and the others a valid reason to fight, they were all just so tired.

It was a bad situation for them in almost every possible way. But no matter their feelings they couldn't just lay down and take this. Their country was occupied. Their _planet_ was occupied. Their very existence seemed to be threatened. They had to fight back.

And fight they would- President Harling made a decision later that night.

"Though the reasons are not what I hoped, the war between Osea and Yuktobania is over." That should've been great news, enough to spur celebration, but it was a hollow victory and not even Nagase smiled at it. "But now Osea has been occupied, and I fear what could happen to its people. We must liberate our country from these people who have invaded us unprovoked." He paused, as if those very words hurt him.

"But that is impossible with our current strength, I realize that. And I am worried about our forces in Yuktobania. Because of this, I've decided that we will head to Yuktobania and try and aid our forces there." He announced. "I feel that's the best we can do at this time." The gathered officers nodded at the decision.

"If those are your orders, Mr. President, I can get us underway immediately." Captain Andersen stepped forward. President Harling nodded his approval, and the Captain left. They had some ways to go to reach Yuktobania.

But while the Naval Officers dispersed, save for the last carrier pilot Captain Snow, President Harling approached the pilots of Wardog Squadron, who all stiffened to attention. "At ease." He spoke with a softer voice, casual compared to the serious matter just moments ago. "I've been reading up on what happened during my absence these past few days." He extended his hand towards Andrew. "I'm very impressed Captain. I always slept easy knowing we had people like you defending us."

Though surprised, Andrew shook the Osean Commander in Chief's hand. "Thank you sir. We…" He was momentarily at a loss of words. He'd spent all his terms in office trying to build peace with Yuktobania, and here he was praising the people who'd nearly razed the country.

"You were following orders. You have no fault in any of this." He read his mind. "What matters now is that we work to fix it."

"Yes sir." Andrews nodded. It might take longer for them to get over it; So much wanton killing was not something to get over quickly. But now that they knew the truth and could stop… It was a start, anyway. President Harling continued.

"Since Wardog is officially dead and the squadrons on this carrier have been destroyed, I've decided to establish a new squadron, a personal squadron of mine to help fix this mess. I think you'd all be glad to be part of it, and I'd like you to lead it Captain."

At that, Andrew glanced over to Captain Snow, the man who'd commanded the _Kestrel's_ F-14 squadron and had shot them down to help fake their deaths. He was of higher rank and had a longer service record that included having become an ace on the first day of hostilities, although not as high a kill count of any of them. He'd flown as a fourth pilot of Wardog Squadron when they rescued the president, but that had been a slapdash operation. When he gave a brief nod, Andrew turned back to Harling.

"What squadron is that, sir?" Andrew asked.

"The Razgriz Air Command Squadron." That was it. For the first time in quite a while, the survivors of Wardog managed to crack a smile. Their unofficial name was about to truly become theirs. But there was more than that to it. In the legend, Razgriz was spoken of as a dark demon, using its power to rain death upon the land at war. And that was what they'd been as Wardog squadron- killing thousands of Yuktobanian troops who never should've died in the first place. For that reason, they'd become absolutely disgusted at the name.

But there was more to that legend. After using its power to rain death upon the land, Razgriz died. But after a time, it was reborn, using its power now to heal the very land it had destroyed. As a hero.

The old Razgriz were gone. Now rose a new one, one that would use its power to save people rather than kill them. They would finally use their power for good.

At last, they'd be the heroes people called them. Nagase was the one who answered for all of them.

"Mr. President…sir… It would be an honor."


	8. Chapter 8

XX A/N XX

For your reading pleasure, I recommend pulling up a map of Strangereal to help visualize what's happening. The Ace Combat wikia has a pretty reliable one, which I've been using along with the games themselves to put this all together.

Personal opinion, I think people who write Worldwar stories underestimate how quickly the Race can cover ground in the initial stages, even against a modern foe. Not everywhere will have troops to defend it or something to shoot a starship down. Assuming they space out their landing sites, they could be spread out over 100s of square miles within just a few days. That's what the source material did- putting them across the entire planet. Whether they could hold it though...

X

December 10/11th: Race landings commence across the planet. Only 12,000 killercraft are launched this time and mostly attack Tosevite forces near the landing sites or patrol them; only a few strikes are sent out. Landcruiser and helicopter units are the first ones to disembark and are ordered to head out and establish a perimeter. The landings prompt mass evacuations from hundreds of human cities.

Usea: Two starships land in northwest Erusea and a further two in southeast Erusea and immediately start disgorging troops despite harassment from FEAF aircraft that result in some killercraft losses. 10,000 Erusian troops dig in at Whisky Corridor, intending to use the same choke point that nearly stopped ISAF to withstand the invaders. Another 50,000 troops, the bulk of the Erusian Army, dig in around Farbanti and 4,000 prepare defenses on the Gunther peninsula bordering the gulf.

Six Race ships land in southern San Salvacion, four not too far from where Stonehenge once stood and two near the Amber/Ugellas border. 300,000 of the forces are intended to head east and invade the FCU, while the other 60,000 are to occupy southern San Salvacion and Ugellas before heading south into Amber. The city of San Salvacion and nearby military forces are heavily bombed as a single starship makes landfall right outside the Capital. The fighting is fierce, however and the killercraft screen is quickly weakened while troops and resistance fighters dig in for urban combat.

Ugellas is in no state to mount any resistance, and the only defense are 2,000 FCU peacekeepers. Delarus, weary of the ships that landed in northwest Erusea, order three infantry brigades to the border. The rest of its Army, only 10,000 troops, is ordered to the southern border with San Salvacion. In Amber, an infantry division and an armored brigade are posted on its border with San Salvacion. The border with Erusea is guarded only by two mechanized brigades, and Amber's leaders rightly fear a two front war. A Federal Usean Navy carrier group equipped with a squadron of X-02s is dispatched into the gulf with orders to assist Amber and Erusea however possible.

Race landings in the FCU are focused in the Altoora Desert on the country's north coast, a relatively uninhabited area. Ten starships make landfall with only limited harassment by FCU aircraft. Most of the FCU's 400,000 strong Army are deployed along the southern and eastern states, and the Lambert Mountains separate the two armies.

A decision is quickly made to form a defensive line on the east coast at the narrowest point,58 miles, between the mountains and the channel that runs inland from Expo City. Evacuations are ordered from the rest of the northern states and the FCU withdraws most of its military forces. A infantry division near the Delarus-FCU border is ordered to fortify the border and reinforce its ally if possible. Another division is ordered to defend the northeast coastal city of St. Ark. The FCU's 6th Fleet, based around the carrier _Fort Grace_ , is ordered from Port St. Ark into the northern inland sea to strike at the landing sites. FCU generals decide to keep five of the country's armored and mechanized divisions in the more open western half to oppose The Race landings in San Salvacion.

Unknown to The Race, the FCU had ordered the deployment of a secret weapon from one of its islands after North Point was bombed: A new Dragonet II Class ballistic missile submarine, the _Sessrúmnir_. Though not equipped with missiles as powerful as the Scinfaxi class subs (themselves counterfeits of the original Dragonet Class submarines), it is capable of launching five high speed cruise missiles simultaneously at ranges exceeding 200 miles and is equipped with long range anti-air weaponry and 8 VTOL fighters. The sub is also carrying two of the ten nuclear bombs possessed by the FCU. The submarine arrives off North Point just as the landings begin.

As a single starship descends towards North Point escorted by 80 killercraft, the sub surfaces long enough to launch missiles at it. The missiles prove too fast for Race killercraft to intercept and all five impact the massive and slow moving ship, causing it to crash mostly into the sea. It is the first starship lost in the conflict. Race killercraft rush towards the launch point, and the submarine shoots several down before diving again. Though its military and government are gone, North Point remains un-invaded for the time being.

By midnight, all surviving Race forces tasked with subjugated Usea are landed and are organizing at their landing sites. ISAF Air Forces continue probing the killercraft screens while ground forces continue to form defensive positions. Across all of Usea, thousands of former resistance fighters prepare resume the role should the situation come to that.

Osean Continent: Although a hundred killercraft are shot down and a few starships damaged by surviving Coastal Defense Force SAMs, Race landings in Osea are successful. Landings are primarily made near major Osean industrial areas, mainly around its inland sea and in North Osea, formerly southern Belka. Fifteen and five starships respectively land in these areas. Six starships land not too far from the Osean Capital of Oured, and the Osean government is quickly evacuated onto warships in Oured Bay. Groups of three or four starships land across the rest of the vast nation, and by the end of the day are in place to conquer the entire superpower.

The same scene plays out in the northern and eastern countries as one starship lands in each. The only variation is in Belka, where Grey Men fighters and SAMs pick off killercraft squadrons using the snowstorms to sneak close to the landing site in the Belkan plains. With over 30 Aces from the Belkan War in their service, the skies above Belka and North Osea stay firmly human controlled. Around this time, the Belkan team working on the SOLG are transferred as prisoners to a Race research ship for interrogation.

The contingent assigned to the southern countries begin landings in Aurelia and Leasath. Both landings are only mildly opposed by the smaller countries. Aurelia, a small nation of only fifteen million, fortifies its capital with 40,000 troops after landings are made in the south. Leasath's leader orders the deployment of the country's fanatical Special Forces, including its chemical warfare Hamlet Unit with several containers of poison gas. The others are given two of the only three nuclear bombs Leasath has. Their orders are explicit: use whatever methods necessary to keep the enemy from advancing from the two landing sites in Leasath.

Anea: The sun rises over the continent as all three nations prepare for the landings. 300,000 Emmerian troops are deployed in three corps around the country: the 3rd Corps stationed near the Estovakian border and Gracemeria, the 1st Corps spread out through the country's south and central areas with a strong concentration around San Loma on the southern peninsula, and 30,000 troops of the 2nd Corps spread throughout western Emmeria and Khesed Island. Over 2,000,000 Estovakians, most of them irregular soldiers and militia, stand ready throughout the fractured country. 90,000 Nordennavic troops prepare defenses on the continental portion of their nation.

Despite harassment from Emmerian and Nordennavic aircraft, five starships successfully land in the Molach Desert, unknowingly splitting Anea, Emmeria, and the Emmerian Military in half. Due to the largely uninhabited desert landscape, the Race enjoy a peaceful landing once the human aircraft are repulsed. Another starship lands on Khesed Island just as easily.

Two starships land just within Nordennavic's borders on the Anean mainland with little difficulty. Three more attempt to make landings on the two largest northwestern islands. The Nordennavic Navy opens fire on all three ships and their escorts as they land, damaging them and destroying half their escorts. Despite this, all five ships successfully land and start disembarking forces. Navy ships continue firing on Race forces and aircraft when practical.

In Estovakia, four Race starships land on the sparsely defended southern peninsulas and combat units begin forming up unopposed. Due to the EMP, the Military Government in unaware of this though. Seven more prepare to land in western Estovakia just outside the nation's former capital. As part of its Aerial Fleet Initiative, the Eastern Faction has been slowly producing and stocking up on Nimbus Missiles, its locally produced burst missiles. Once the first ships were spotted, several had been loaded into conventional launchers and prepped just in case. Though not employed during the first wave due to the heavy allied air cover, the incoming starships force Estovakia's hand and six are order launched at the incoming force. As was the case during the initial tests, they are guided to their target by a modified AWACS plane within Eastern Faction airspace.

Three detonate in the midst of the dense killercraft screens coming down to patrol the landing sites, destroying over a hundred of them. One detonates below a starship, frightening the Shiplord in command into aborting the landing. Two Nimbus Missiles strike Race ships directly, causing catastrophic damage that causes the ships to crash, unfortunately causing civilian and LUF casualties. Out of fear of further missile attacks, the other four starships abort their landings and return to orbit with escorts not far behind. Despite the successful landings in the south, Estovakia has room to breathe.

This event coming right after the shoot down over North Point shocks the Conquest Fleet Hierarchy, Atvar especially. Although his attention is still on the current landings, he begins considering further employment of their explosive metal bombs against both Estovakia and (under the mistaken impression the country was responsible) North Point. In only days, the Tosevites have proved to be far ahead of The Race in missile technology. Despite this, The Race establishes various footholds on Anea and troops are already forming up for further attacks.

Emmeria and Nordennavic, equally shocked, send inquires to the Eastern Faction on the missiles. The Belkan scientists working on the Estovakian Aerial Fleet implore The Generals to reveal the project to the LUF and the other countries while they're still strong. They claim that not only can the Aerial Fleet defend the entire continent from attack, but that it can be completed in only three months if they have the help and resources of the whole continent, rather than one impoverished half of Estovakia. Thinking their borders are safe, the military leadership are wary of the idea.

Verusa: Under heavy air cover, 40 Race starships land in Yuktobanina's Jilache Desert, the Shiplord in charge of Yuktobania intending to use the favorable climate as a base of operations for conquering the Tosevite Empire. The desert, laying between the Osean beachhead and Cinigrad, is being used as a key Osean transport hub and base for bomber squadrons in Yuktobania. Race forces quickly destroy Osean air defenses and capture the nearby air bases, giving their killercraft squadrons a good place to launch from.

Although Race forces do not realize the significance at the time, they also manage to capture several Osean prisoners and aircraft on the ground intact, including two Osean B-1 stealth bombers that were not destroyed by base security. They do immediately recognize five atomic weapons when they locate them; Osea had moved them to its forward deployed bombers in case the war escalated. Aside from providing a good jumping off point for invading northern, eastern, and central Yuktobania, taking the Jilache Desert will provide The Race with a good amount of intelligence on the Tosevite's military equipment.

Two other major landings take place in the country: Eight starships land in southern Yuktobania right outside Gunizudo. Another six land together in northwest Yuktobania, near its western borders. In total, it is only half of the forces intended for the country. The rest are planned to land in the following days once the forces already deployed begin their offensives. Hampered by inexperience and lack of supplies respectively, around four million Yuktobanian and Osean troops dig in deeper where they are and send up only local air patrols.

From the safety of the Osean Fleet in the Ceres Ocean, General Howell, the commander of Osean forces in Yuktobania, urges his troops to hold out against these invaders and prepare to return home to defend their country. His words are only that though- between the Navy's shortage of weapons and the dearth of transport ships, getting the forces out of the country is completely impossible.

Race landings throughout the southern and western countries prove nearly as easy as the eastern Osean nations. Armed mostly with old Yuktobanian stocks that were wrecked by the EMPs, none of the countries can seriously oppose the landings. Multiple pairs and trios of starships land at points throughout and perimeters are set up.

December 12th: By this day, over a million Race males have left their starships and the landing zones have been thoroughly fortified with ground positions, anti-air sites, and anti-missile defenses. Realizing control of the skies in critical, The Race implicates a 4 shift daily schedule to ensure that there are killercraft in the air with rested pilots every moment of the day. This day also starts to see the first deployments of Race refueling and transport craft.

As soon as the sun rises, The Race launch their first major ground offensive on Tosev 3. Race offensive aerial forces have already been reduced to 63% of their original number operational, with several starships already completely empty after reorganizations. 10% of those are posted of permanent patrol around the landing zones. The rest, many still operating from their ships in orbit, are given free rein to bomb Tosevite cities and forces to try and bring the war to a close as fast as possible.

Human forces have fortified defenses on the ground to the best of their ability. However, save for Osea and Yuktobania, none have their economies seriously geared towards war and troop and supply shortages are quickly expected to become a problem.

Osean Continent: With only half trained troops and police in their way, Race landcruisers, troop carriers, and infantry roll unopposed into Osean cities and by the first day most industrial areas and centers of local government have been taken over- 35% of the country in total. The only true resistance is in Oured, where superior numbers allow The Race to still break into the Capital of Osea. The Osean population are bewildered by the aliens, but their near complete abandonment by the central government leaves many too stunned to resist. No military threat present and complete occupation expected within days, The Race looks into the capabilities of Osean industry and setting up a proper government in the newest addition to their Empire.

The Osean Marines that had departed from Yuktobania a few days past are passing south of Aurelia when the news comes in. The warships carrying the Vice President and Chiefs of Staffs agree to head south and meet the amphibious group. They are joined by two surviving warships from the Sapin Navy.

Efforts to capture the former South Belka and Belka itself are not as smooth. The Race still don't expect an armed threat and troops and killercraft assigned to the nation are slow and cautious in their advance due to the weather. Although Race helicopters lift forces into the Capital Dinsmark and quickly uproot Belka's civilian government, they do not know about the Grey Men and bypass many of their remote and hidden bases. The Belkan nationalist organization decides it is time to come out of the shadows.

The leaders publicly declare their presence and vow to defend the Belkan people and return the nation to its former glory. Members of its armed wing publicly march through several smaller towns on their way south with the same pride as 15 years ago. The Belkan population is urged to join them and are promised weapons and resources to aid them. Only 4,000 strong when they first began, over 12,000 Belkans are now heading south to meet the invaders. The Grey Men's aerial forces continue downing small groups of aircraft and helicopters and bombing Race forces in both Belka and Osea. Snow is expected in the region for the next two weeks, and they intend to use every day of it to their advantage.

In North Osea, the leader of Grunder industries makes a similar call to Belkans still living in the area. As the entire company is located in North Osea, he is not guaranteed as much protection from the Grey Men's armed wing. Nearly 3,000 Belkans, many former soldiers as well, hear the call and head for the facilities around the state. Against them are still over 300,000 Race troops in North Osea alone.

Wellow proves to be more then The Race bargained for. Despite the lack of an armed threat, save for a few special police units, the takeover is far from smooth. One of the most northern countries, Wellow is extremely cold this time of year. Males who stay out of their vehicles or shelter for more then a few minutes quickly suffer cold related injuries and deaths. The shiplord in charge is not immediately dissuaded and forces slowly but surely begin spreading across the island nation.

Despite this, efforts in the rest of the eastern countries go as smooth as in Osea: Civilian leaders are captured and the countries' industry and resource production centers are secured. The Race's presence is particularly heavy in the Nordlands, the eastern most country. Across a channel, less than 50 miles in some places, lies Erusea. The Race see the Nordlands as a potential transport hub between Osea and Usea, as well as a possible place to strike at Erusea.

In Aurelia, 80% of the country is under Race control already, mainly the southern half. By Griswall, the Navy destroys its east coast highway after Race troops are reporting advancing on it from Santa Elva, which has since been completely over run. Over 60 civilians are killed in the operation, and thousands more are trapped. Killercraft attacks continue on the Aurelian Capital while the Race consolidate their control over the mostly rural country.

Leasath's Special Forces are eager to obey their leader's orders. At the northern landing zone where one starship landed, the SF team attempts to sneak within range of the actual ship before sunrise, but are discovered by the gathered Race forces. A firefight ensures and the team detonates the bomb. Still condensed near the landing sight, 40,000 males are killed outright, and many more suffer burns and radiation poison that is expected to kill thousands more in the coming hours and days. Hundreds of vehicles and aircraft are destroyed or rendered useless by both the electromagnetic pulse and radiation.

The detonation is immediately picked up on the Bannership, but the EMP reaches far enough to damage the starship and leaves the forces at the landing site isolated and severely disorganized. A detachment from Hamlet Unit uses the chaos to launch gas containers at the surviving concentrations. Chemical warfare never existing in The Race's history, they have no idea how to respond and the death count quickly increases. The southern landing site suffers 94% casualties and is defeated before even moving out.

On Leasath's southerm border where two starships have landed, the occurrence is similar. The team there is successful in smuggling the nuke close enough to destroy one starship when it detonates in a timed blast that kills 35,000 males. The concentrations near the other ship is bombarded by the bulk of the Hamlet Unit. They are quickly found and destroyed by killercraft, but not before killing thousands of males and disorganizing the rest. Leasath's Army and Air Force advance on the landing sites with the intention of finishing off the invaders.

Leasath's leader praises the sacrifice of the Special Forces as an example for the country and makes it clear to the populace that the country will not go quietly against an obviously weak foe. Despite knowing they possessed them, the Tosevites' eagerness to use the weapons quickly spreads and shocks shiplords across the Conquest Fleet. They wonder if the war could escalate into an exchange that will kill millions of males and the planet itself.

Still overseeing the landings, the Fleetlord can't let those fears cloud his mind. He does decide though that a harder line may be needed against their enemy. An explosive metal bomb attack is planned on Leasath the following day, using bombs from the _56th Emperor Josanno_ , a starship that landed in Osea and is carrying most of the Conquest Fleet's atomic inventory.

Anea: The losses in Leasath still fresh in his mind and fearful of the 'supermissiles', Atvar reluctantly decides repercussions must be extracted for the Estovakian attack on the landing ships, and at midday orders explosive metal bombs dropped on five industrial cities throughout the country from high altitude, with the groups being small to avoid provoking further burst missile attacks. The two sites in western Estovakia, un-patrolled and virtually undefended after the first strike, disappear under nuclear hellfire. Of the three intended for the other half, two of the strike groups are intercepted by Eastern Faction fighters. One city though, is destroyed. The attack enrages the entire country and prompts fear in Emmeria and Nordennavic.

The surviving Race troops meant for Estovakia choose instead to land in the Molach Desert and cross into Estovakia on the ground once the initial forces that landed move out. Although the Race do not fully understand the Nimbus Missiles, they only believe them to be anti-air weapons. Killercraft assigned to Estovakia instead choose to focus on bombing Emmerian positions and cities, killing thousands and brewing negative feelings between Emmeria and their neighbor. Race forces on the Estovakian peninsulas start driving north with no resistance and are appalled by the poverty and state of the war torn country.

From the Molach Desert, Race ground forces begin heading east, west, and south. Killercraft attacks again target Gracemeria and the southern industrial cities like San Loma with high casualty rates on both sides. Ragno Fortress to the west of the landing site is also bombed to allow Race troops to reach the western half of the country. Heavy anti-aircraft fire keeps them at bay, and the surrounding canyons offer protection to Emmerian fighters which quickly learn to use them as cover to pop up and fire from. 90,000 males begin driving south towards Gracemeria and by the end of the day are engaging human defenders from Fort Norton near the Alma River just north of the city.

On Khesed Island, Bartolomeo Fortress in the northeast becomes the last hold out for 12,000 Emmerian troops against three hundred killercraft and 60,000 Race males. Built on a mountain with many defensive emplacements though, they are well defended from both. But their retreat allows for most of the cities on the island to fall to Race control.

Race troops in continental Nordennavic begin their advance north, occupying towns as they go. The main defensive line is outside the Capital on the northern coast, but several platoons of soldiers behind the lines soon become a nuisance for The Race, attacking advancing columns and rear units and quickly retreating into the snowy countryside where they are invisible. The cold in Nordennavic, just above freezing temperature, makes the weather intolerable for Race infantry males and many take shelter in buildings rather then patrolling the occupied areas, which only invites more hit and run attacks.

The situation on the Nordennavic islands is worse due to the cold wind blowing in from the sea. Within the first five hours of advancing, over a hundred males are reported dead from cold related injuries. Rather then taking control of the hundreds of mines and industrial areas throughout the mineral rich country, Race vehicles take to parking outside as to only keep the Tosevites from using them. Attempts to bomb the mines and industrial areas on the smaller Nordennavic islands are intercepted by its Navy. Knowing they severely underestimated the risks here, the Shiplords appeal to Atvar for a change in the plan.

Verusa: Race forces in the southern Yuktobania quickly spread out and occupy dozens of towns and cities, including Gunizudo. Resistance is weak from the spread out and under-armed Osean and Yuktobanian troops. By the end of the first day, Race forces have already captured some border areas and are quickly spreading towards the east coast.

600,000 Race males depart from the Jilache Desert east and northeast with the key city of Okchaburst as the final objective. Like in the south, the area is guarded mostly by second line units only in the main cities. A raid by just over 500 killercraft eases their path as they occupy towns along the way. The only untouched area is the Bastok Peninsula, where the OMDF still has weight and a mix of 11,000 Osean troops in defensive positions for the oncoming offensive.

Before a million disembarked Race troops head for Cinigrad and the main concentration of Osean and Yuktobanian forces, a massive raid of 3,000 killercraft is organized to bomb the city and troops around it. At the last moment, Atvar orders an explosive metal bomb to be included in the strike.

As in the first instance, air defense sites scattered throughout the country pick off killercraft before they even reach their targets. Once there, human fighters and more anti-air defenses continue the job. The killercraft carrying the EMB is damaged by Yuktobanian flak cannon fire south of Cinigrad and tries to flee, eventually crashing in the remote countryside without its payload detonating. Yuktobanian troops reach the crash site first and, recognizing the weapon, remove it and disappear before Race search and rescue alive. Atvar is not pleased by the news.

The strike results in a loss of nearly another thousand killercraft, although they do again chip away at the Tosevite's ability to oppose them in the air. Progress against their actual ground units though, is insignificant. Race commanders decide to proceed anyway and order units to advance towards the Tosevite armies. Race forces are engaged by small garrisons of Osean troops during these movements, suffering small losses.

Race troops who landed west of Cinigrad find an undefended country and focus on occupying the nearby cities and securing Yuktobania's western borders and northern coast. Deployments are ordered to the highlands overlooking Cinigrad.

Since Osea is intended to the be the center of Race logistics for the invasion, local killercraft commanders, now knowing how powerful naval anti-air is, attempt again to remove the OMDF from the Ceres Ocean to open up a safe air corridor between the two continents. Osean Naval Aviation is prepared and, utilizing its strengths like the AIM-54, E/A-18G, and the stealthy F-35C, tear apart most of the strike before they even reach the ocean. Some killercraft do get through and sink two warships and damage a few more. The Yuktobanian Navy is not attacked, although the few ports it still has in the northern part of the country are bound to be captured during The Race's northern advance.

The southern Verusian countries fall apart quickly under the massive numbers of Race forces and their desire to quickly conquer the continent they believe poses the most threat. Though ground forces remain, the EMP has robbed them of any control in the air and the surviving forces either scatter or desert. The western countries face the same fate. Unlike the southern countries though, the western nations, longtime hotbeds for civil conflicts and mercenary groups, are filled with irregular fighters that melt into the surroundings as many towns and cities are occupied.

Usea: From the northwest Erusian landing site, 30,000 Race troops head east towards Delarus. The other 90,000 head south towards Farbanti as the city faces heavy bombing from killercraft. A Race landcruiser force breaks off from the advance to engage Erusian troops in Whisky Corridor. But while the desert landscape is familiar to The Race, it does not offer an advantage. Artillery in the mountains disorganizes many columns and anti-air troops continue harass and shoot down killercraft. Helicopters that try and find these positions are more often then not shot down. The Erusian defenders have actually embedded themselves in trenches and bunkers still standing from the battle four years ago, and in the wide open landscape they can easily spot and call fire on Race vehicles. Despite this, the Erusians are few in number and many killercraft do manage to slip through and bomb them.

From the southeast Erusea landing site, 60,000 Race troops start advancing along the southern Erusian coast towards Farbanti, spreading onto the Gunther peninsula in the process. Erusian and FCU aircraft bomb these troops as they advance in a display of unity not seen since the 1998 crisis. 30,000 males begin advancing northwest between the Amber and Lambert Mountains, towards Whisky Corridor.

30,000 cross the Amber border and engage forces there. The 9,000 Amber troops, having been protected from enemy air attack by Mobius Squadron and Amber and FCU Naval Aviation throughout the night, use their experience and prepared defenses aided by air strikes to temporarily keep the enemy from crossing the border. Due to the proximity to the landing site though, killercraft are constantly in the area and even the legendary Mobius Squadron can't keep them completely safe as the country's stock of anti-air ordinance quickly drains. Once the ground attack is beaten back, high command orders the surviving Amber troops to retreat south towards the coast where their last air base and Usean navies can aid them. This retreat is covered by Federal Usean Navy electronic warfare craft, which prove remarkably effective and causes Race forces on the ground to stop their advance and killercraft to vacate the area as all communications are cut off.

Despite occasional air support, the rest of Amber's Army on the San Salvacion border are in danger so close to the landing sites. They too are ordered to retreat before Race forces move south to engage them. They are harassed the entire way by killercraft, killing thousands before jammer support arrives. Amber's Prime Minister barely survives being evacuated as dozens of cities are bombed by killercraft.

In the city of San Salvacion, Race troops have a hard time advancing due to the water that surrounds and separates the Capital, allowing local troops to bombard and slow them while hundreds of civilians start fleeing the city. With a starship right outside the city though, Race killercraft crowd the skies and indiscriminate attacks soon turn some of the streets red with blood.

From the southern San Salvacion landing zone, Race forces begin moving east into the FCU and the first units are stopped just over the border by two armored divisions. FCU fighters and stealth fighters engage Race killercraft while strike craft bomb Race columns and artillery positions. The action keeps the numerically superior Race from making much progress on the first day.

While ground forces deploy east and south from the Altoora landing site, Race killercraft attempt to pass over the Lambert Mountains and bomb the southern FCU. Anti-air sites set up in the mountains and the nation-wide network beyond keep most of them out. FCU infantry divisions are deployed along the mountain to keep The Race from slipping through.

Elements of the FCU 120th Airborne Division drop on North Point to help restore order and security to country. Close to a quarter of a million civilians have already been evacuated from the north FCU by plane and boat and thousands more have already fled over or through the mountains, though several million people are still in the country's northeast. Fighters, including X-02s, from the _Fort Grace_ try and keep killercraft away from St. Ark where most of the evacuees are or are heading. The _Sessrúmnir_ is ordered to join the 6th Fleet in the northern inland sea.

The first units begin arriving at the planned defensive line and combat engineers begin work. Navy ships begin taking positions along the east coast, near Expo City, and along the channel running inland. Military leaders are confident they can confine enemy forces to this point, as there is no way to get substantial forces through the mountains. Some are worried of a possible landing in the southern states though, bypassing the line.

With a few days to breath before the northern landings reach them and the western front holding, the FCU evaluates how it can further help its allies in ISAF. The 6th Airborne Division, which is based on Tyler Island south of Erusea, has the capacity to be dropped anywhere south of the Lambert Mountains. None of the lines in either Erusea or Amber seem stable enough to risk the whole division, however. They ultimately decide to send one of their light carriers with escort to Farbanti to aid the Erusian Navy.

Although reluctant to employ them, a squadron of B-1 stealth bombers based on Skully Island south of Usea is loaded with six nuclear weapons. But with a well-equipped Army that is 50% veterans, the FCU is confident they can contain the landings for the time being. Most of the rest of its stealth bomber force- eight B-2s and twenty four F-117s- are relocated to one of the FCU's eastern islands, within striking range of the planned defensive line. The rest is relocated to Tyler Island.

The situation across the entire planet is hard to gauge. The Race has made great progress on its first day ground invasion, putting forces across great swaths of territory particularly on the Osean and Verusan continents. Despite this, a lot of human military forces remain on the planet, either in hiding or in isolated but defended positions. The Race has already encountered weapons they have no concept of or counter-measures.

The first instances of land warfare, however small, allows a proper comparison of the two forces. Due to the wide array of mixed equipment, the human abilities vary wildly, but in general even older equipment is capable of engaging The Race's forces capably. Newer human made tanks, such of Osean Abrams, Usean Challenger 2s, Belkan Leopard 2s, and Yuktobania T-80s prove even superior to landcruisers. The Race's standardized artillery only has a range of 10 miles, putting it behind some of its Tosevite opposites. Their missile artillery, however, proves very effective. Unfortunately, there is only one launcher assigned for every 10,000 males and missiles are scarce.

As in the air, Race tactics on the ground surprise and are exploited by the human militaries. Landcruisers are sent without infantry escort, allowing human infantry to engage them with some success. Though armed as well as most IFVs, Race troop carriers and infantry are not noticed as cooperating as well as human mechanized infantry. Race infantry dispatched by helicopter do not organize for follow up forces and are isolated and destroyed fairly easily.

Despite these exploits and tech advantages, the sheer number of enemy forces, ill-preparedness, and Race control of the air manages to keep the human militaries either in retreat or completely on the defensive. At the same time though, Race ground commanders are appalled by the losses they do sustain, around 50,000 on the first day, and are struggling to understand how the Tosevites and their weapons fight.

For another day, killercraft losses steadily continue and are expected to be under 50% within under a week at the current pace. Maintenance males are in too few supply to fix all of the thousands of damaged killercraft returning from the battlefields, and engagements so far have used up an alarming amount of spare parts and munitions brought by the Conquest Fleet. Should things continue at their current pace, Race aerial operations will have to be scaled back within weeks, weakening the one clear advantage they do have.

Prospect of a quick victory begins slipping from the minds of many in the Conquest Fleet. With the revelation these aliens aren't very different to themselves, the human powers start to see a solid prospect they'll survive this new war. But at the same time they are experienced enough to know a hard war is still in front of them.

XX A/N XX

Another fast paced third person chapter. I will probably stop using these eventually, once things slow down. And believe me, they will slow down soon. Anyone want to place bets yet on where The Race will be defeated first?


	9. Chapter 9

X Skies above North Osea. December 12th X

Belka's military might had never been based on numbers. Even at the height of its size and power, it had only had a population a quarter of that of Osea, not all of it strictly Belkan. In most of their wars, they'd been outnumbered. And while they hadn't always won them, they'd always come out with less casualties than their opponent. While Osea had had numbers, Belka's strength had come from its equipment and superior training and planning.

It was Belka that had first used planes in an offensive military role, and Belka had been the developers of the technology Osea and Yuktobania used to produce most of their current lines of weaponry. In the last half century, Belka had actually made most of its money improving the designs of aircraft made by those nations and selling them back in exchange for production rights for themselves. It had kept the Belkan Air Force well supplied and completely knowledgeable about their enemies' equipment, strengths, and weaknesses.

Training and planning were even bigger factors, for what is the purpose of a good weapon if it can't be properly used? Belkans trained relentlessly to be better than any other nation at war and do more with less. Belkans could do with a battalion what other countries would need a regiment for. Small squadrons of two planes could be posted where another nation would send a full squadron of twelve. Military plans were thoroughly thought out to include everything that could possibly occur and executed with command and control that allowed well trained Belkan troops to adapt to any situation.

It was these traits that had seen Belka survive multiple wars with Osea and other nations and allowed it to expand its own influence. It had even helped them in the Belkan War. History would claim it was the nukes that made Osea stop. In reality, Osean casualties to the Belkan Military had been just over a 2:1 ratio, something that certainly influenced their choice. Even now, reduced to a petty underground organization, Belkans had set in motion events that had claimed nearly a million lives already.

These strengths even existed outside the continent. Erusea, like most western Usean countries, had been founded by immigrants from the Osean continent. Erusians were descendent from Belkans, and kept with them much of the same military wit and competency. It was those traits they'd inherited that had let them nearly conquer an entire continent. If descendants could do that, pureblooded Belkans could do even better.

Outnumbered or even weakened, Belkans were a threat to whoever they chose to be, provoked or not. These alien invaders were about to learn that, courtesy of four F-15S/MTDs that had just crossed the mountains into what was internationally recognized as Osea but to most of its residents was still Belka. In the pilot seat of the lead plane was a man in his forties by the name of Ashley Bernitz.

Bernitz was an easy man to summarize- the embodiment of an unhealthy patriot. The entirety of his adult life so far had been devoted to Belka, first as a pilot in its Air Force and since the war a terrorist willing to use whatever means necessary to restore his country to a position of power, morality a concept foreign to him. The other three pilots in his squadron- Grabacr Squadron- could be said to be the same. Nothing surpassed the worth of Belkan land, lives, or honor in their minds. Any being who disregarded them, be they human or not, deserved only death.

And death these aliens would get. The planes Grabacr were equipped with were improved models of the original S/MTD prototype fights, keeping the improved avionics and maneuverability while knocking down the number of pilots from two to only one. Most significant though was that these few planes, of which only four existed, had stealth technology nearly on par with that of modern stealth bombers. Superior Belkan engineering at its finest.

Grabacr had used this important improvement to act behind the scenes in the recent war, and now they were using it to sneak close and strike down their enemy. Four fuel air explosive bombs hung under each plane, powerful explosives that could destroy even the toughest structures and obliterate entire platoons. They would destroy the enemy to give their fellow Belkans a fighting chance to defend their homes. A fighting chance was all they needed to succeed.

Their squadron was the only one who'd been sent to combat the landings down here. There'd been a landing within Belka itself, in the southwestern plains just over the mountains. Most of the armed wing was mobilizing to combat that threat, backed up by thousands of other Belkan patriots. But while it was inconvenient, they absolutely couldn't ignore the landings down here.

Bernitz was not among the highest council of the Grey Men. Those positions belonged to the former high ranking military commanders and the men who brought Belka its strength, wealth, and power, mainly businessman specializing in resources and industry. Bernitz did hold the position of being a field commander for their aerial forces though, more than forty fighters, so he was privy to important information and plans.

So he knew how much was at risk here in South Belka. Grunder Industries was a main contributor of funds and the source of all the organization's weapons; what arms industry North Belka retained was much smaller and heavily monitored. To lose both would be catastrophic and limit their ability to protect their country.

Even worse, Bernitz knew what was in the facilities down here. Grunder had been stockpiling thousands of weapons and vehicles here, preparing for the day Belka would rearm. They'd even been working on reviving some of the old projects Belka had worked on in the 80s, including its command cruiser initiative, enhanced with ideas from the scientists who'd been helping the Estovakians a world away develop their own. They were even trying creating a functioning ADF-01 and recreating 01 and 02 models of the ADFX, a project Bernitz had last heard was nearly complete. It was all too much to lose.

Even more dangerous to give up was the project in Sudentor, a town built right against the mountains. Ever since Belka had been forced to drop nuclear weapons on its own land, reaching it from Osea had become impossible; the bombs had been dropped around the only passes through the mountains. A massive underground railway tunnel had been built at Sudentor that ran under the mountains, two lines that could move entire divisions of soldiers in a day. The enemy presence in Belka and the eastern nations was heavy enough. If the potential millions in Osea could reach them, the country would be in an even worse bind then 15 years ago.

The aliens had landed in the Schayne Plains, a mostly uninhabited area that had held several important posts for the Belkan Military during the war. The Oseans hadn't rebuilt the bases when they took over, and the plains hadn't changed much over the years. They made a perfect pace to assemble a large ground force.

"This place hasn't changed." David Kuester, Grabacr 2, said it out loud. It was open country beneath them, empty farmland in the middle of winter. There was a connecting trait for the four members of Grabacr squadron: They'd all been born and raised in South Belka. Bernitz and Tom Beich, Grabacr 3, both came from Sudentor. Kuester had been born on a farm that had not survived the war, and Maximilian Kohl, Grabacr 4, hailed from a town on the Great Lakes. Aside from that bonding factor, it was something that encouraged them, pressing them every day to restore Belka and their own homes.

"The Oseans were never brave enough to try." Bernitz shook his head. Even 15 years later, there hadn't been a whole lot of immigration of Oseans to South Belka. Business people, mostly, or soldiers stationed at the bases Osea had established or taken over. The demographics and language here wasn't very different from what it was 15 years ago, and it never would be.

The Grey Men's aerial force was mostly geared for aggression and small unit tactics, so they didn't have an AWACS or command center to guide them. It was entirely in Grabacr 1's hands on what to engage when they found anything.

"Aerial contacts ahead at 1-7-3." Bernitz called. He watched the four arrows on his radar. They were airborne, but didn't seem to be moving very fast. When Dinsmark had been captured (something that would be reversed very soon), their agents had reported the invaders using what they were certain were helicopters, or VTOL craft to transport soldiers at any rate. "Grabacr 2 and 3, change your heading and down those craft. Conserve you missiles." With their load of bombs, each of their planes only had 4 air to air missiles, and they knew the enemy did have jet fighters.

"On it." The two planes broke away and sped towards the contacts. Bernitz stayed on his own course and watched over the radar as they closed in and the four unidentified craft disappeared from radar as they intersected, lost to cannon fire.

"Targets down, they were definitely helicopters." 3 reported as the two planes started to return to their formation. "They were above a cattle farm. Looks like there were ground forces beneath them."

"Vehicles?" Bernitz questioned.

"Looked like infantry."

"Ignore them." Bernitz ordered, although he would've preferred the exact opposite. They had to pick their targets carefully in this situation. It was a bigger concern they get rid of the alien's armored punch. The four planes resumed their formation and continued onto the Schayne Plains.

"Hey boss? The higher ups say about what we're going to do about the eastern front?" Grabacr 2 questioned. "They landed there too, didn't they?"

While Belka undoubtedly had a bad history with Osea, they were far from on friendly terms with their four (no real Belkan considered 'Ustio' a nation) neighboring nations in the opposite direction: Fato, Recta, Gebet, and Sapin. There'd been territorial disputes and wars for over a century. Recta and Gebet had even been annexed by Belka in to 70s only to be let go during the economic crisis that eventually sparked the war. And of course those countries still held unto Belkan land they'd unfairly taken during Belka's weak period.

It was true that was a strategic issue; there were no natural borders in those countries that could stop them from advancing into Belka. But those countries did have their own militaries that would possibly slow the enemy. Once the landing site in Belka was defeated, they could move forces to the east. As for why the organization was putting its resources into the south first, it was a matter of practicality and patriotism: South Belka was more Belkan than any of those countries or even the border areas, and had more in terms of manpower and resources to lend to the Belkan cause. Bernitz said as much to his squadron. It was a hard game to play, but for now they had to.

ALL of it would be Belka's again eventually.

The light snow impaired their vision, so they saw the enemy on radar before they saw them with their own eyes, and what a sight it was. In just seconds the entire edge of their radar was overtaken by blips indicating ground and air targets, and as they could closer their whole screens threatened to become full of blips.

The largest collection of aircraft Grabacr had ever seen had been during Operation Battle Axe at Area B7R, when 48 Osean aircraft had entered to area looking for a fight they soon regretted. But that was all but a smudge compared what they saw before them. This enemy was _massive_. It was a sight equally awing as it was infuriating.

Belkans pilots were expert fighters either individually or working as a unit, able to take down foes more numerous than them with ease. Grabacr may have been aggressive, but they weren't stupid. They'd stick together, focus on one target, and get the hell out of there. Doing damage would be enough in this case.

The ground forces to their front would've been the enemy's most forward deployed units, the most likely to advance north, in other words. Their AIM-120s had a far range on them; they'd fire on the patrolling squadrons, drop their bombs on the rally zone, and return to North Belka. Bernitz relayed that order to his squadron and the planes spread out appropriately as to not overlap bombing zones.

The alien fighters were flying around the landing zone. Unlike a human CAP, they were literally just flying above the ground units instead of at a distance. Grabacr had engaged many during the first bombing runs on Belka. Design wise, they looked a lot like Usean fighters, but slightly bulkier. Even though Grabacr had shot down most of them before the enemy was aware, in the instances they were aware of their presence, the enemy flying was subpar. Even the greenest of enemy pilots during the Belkan War had flown better than these invaders. It could hardly be called dogfighting, the art it was meant to be. So far this was what the Oseans would call a turkey shoot.

He armed two of the 120s and took aim at a pair of fighters patrolling counter clockwise that had just passed him, and fired. As soon as those were off the rails and streaking into the grey abyss, he quickly repeated the process with the other two. They were called fire and forget for a reason, and Bernitz didn't think he'd be able to notice any singular blips disappear from the mass on his radar, so he quickly switched to the FAEBs.

The flurries in the air should've been an issue, impairing their vision and aim for an unguided bomb like the FAEB. But even as he leveled out at 3,000 feet, a safe distance above the detonation, he could see the enemy massed ahead of them. It was due to only the desert tan camouflage their vehicles were painted with, more suitable for the deserts of Sapin than the green of South Belka. Massed together, they all stuck out against the ground so vividly even the snow couldn't obscure them. Their mistake.

The patrolling fighters were starting to respond to the fact some of their numbers had been shot down as Bernitz started his bombing run. The FAEB was an immensely powerful weapon, one of the greatest non-nuclear bombs in some powers and the most powerful in nations without nuclear weapons. If the initial shockwave didn't kill everything, the ignition of flames that followed would finish it off. He went un-noticed as his plane was finally over the enemy and he pulled the release lever. The bomb fell and a moment later the plane lightly shook from a thunderous found behind it. Bernitz ignored them, as he ignored the bright orange that appeared at the corners of his vision, and continued the run.

Once the last bomb dropped, he braked and pushed the stick to the side, making the modified Eagle pull a sharp 180 degree turn that had him heading back north along nearly the same route he'd flown in on. Enemy radar continued to try and grab him as he flew back, but he took a look at his radar to notice that four almost perfect lines seemed to have been carved into the mass of blips representing ground targets.

"Captain, check the radar. Looks like they aren't letting us off that easily." Grabacr 4 warned. Bernitz looked to see several arrows ahead on the surviving ground forces and heading north- pursuit aircraft. That was understandable but odd. During the first attacks Belkan squadrons had been forced to fall back after expending all their weaponry on enemy strike groups numbering in the 30s. For some reason, the enemy survivors hadn't bothered to ever pursue the now disadvantaged Belkans.

Whatever the reason, they were still following them and Bernitz wasn't going to let them be followed back into North Belka. "Grabacr Squadron, lower your speed in altitude. When the enemy passed us, get behind them and rake them with cannon fire." He was banking on their plane's stealth capabilities, but it was a bet he made with confidence.

Sure enough, their enemy was only blindly stumbling after him and quickly passed above the Grabacr planes without noticing them, at which point they struck. Bernitz pushed the throttle forward and shot up towards a group of three fighters while the other three Belka pilots went after the other five planes. He pulled right in behind their triangle formation, just behind the right rear fighter.

The aiming reticle hovered over the twin engines of the fighter and he fired, sending 20mm rounds that tore into the engine and caused the plane to quickly start losing speed and altitude. He quickly banked left to get behind the other fighter and fired again, raking its right wing with gunfire before having to back off as the damage and speed made the wing snap off and barely miss Bernitz. That stability lost, the alien fighter begin spinning rapidly downwards.

The lead fighter was smart enough to avoid him and jerked to the side to evade his gunfire. Bernitz turned and followed. Now aware of the danger, the alien fighter tried to shake him off, making fast and jerking movements that were just enough to evade the gun, but not shake the Belkan ace. Bernitz had trained in the Belkan Air Force, dueled with Osean fighters, and even briefly tangled with the Demon Lord of Ustio. It was absolutely no serious effort to stay behind them, waiting for his chance.

Eventually, the enemy pilot did screw up in their maneuvering: they dipped their aircraft and then tried to pull up too quickly. For only a few brief seconds, the targeting reticle was aimed squared at the back of the fighter. Years of instinct formed in war allowed Bernitz to depress his finger on the trigger as soon as he realized the mistake. Cannon fire raked the back of the craft, several shells even clearly impacting around the cockpit area of the fighter. The third fighter rolled and, seemingly without the input of a pilot anymore, arced towards the ground where it continued before impacting the ground in a less then spectacular explosion.

"Three down." Bernitz called and scanned for more targets.

"Radar clear." Grabacr 2 reported. "No more pursuit craft after us." After confirming on his radar, Bernitz nodded in approval. Multiple enemy grounds forces destroyed and several fighters shot down. It would work for today.

"Our mission is complete. Return to base. We still have a lot to prove to these invaders."

X Northeast Yuktobania. December 12th X

Contrary to what people would say, being a pilot didn't always give you a good picture of what was going on down below in the mud and blood. There was usually a divide between pilot and ground pounder on who had the worse job. Having experienced both, Jack Bartlett could say fighting on the ground was the harder art. But it was fun in its own right.

Or at least it was when you actually fighting instead of taking cover. That's what Bartlett was doing right now: taking cover behind a car in the parking lot of Shtil Internment Camp as rifle fire even flew overhead or impacted the car. He held the AK-74 he'd become intimately familiar with in the past two months close, waiting for a chance to lean out and use it.

"Tough crowd tonight." He said to himself. Across the parking lot, blocking the same entrance they'd shot through just a few minutes ago to get into this camp, were the grey-clothed troops of the Yuktobanian Ministry of the Interior, a relic left over from the country's more oppressive years whose only loyalty were to the officers that commanded them. Most had left when the ships were spotted, but it looked like a few more than expected had stayed. "Sorry Prime Minister, looks like the jail break tour's broke down while we wait for help."

Slumped just a few feet away from him, behind another car and protected by the bodies of several other inexperienced fighters, Prime Minister Nikanor of Yuktobania didn't respond, still is the slight daze they'd found him in when they broke into his cell. As only a mere Captain in the OADF, he shouldn't have been mixing with the leader of one of the world's two superpowers, but Jack Bartlett wasn't an ordinary man, especially in the last few months.

A veteran of the Belkan War, Bartlett wasn't a man who'd leg age steal the his reckless but good nature that had helped his survive his younger years even as it more or less anchored him into one dead-end position. The lived by two very simple creeds: Do good where ever you could, and take care of those close to you no matter the cost. It wasn't a perfect world and right wasn't always good, but you did what you had to.

Considering the timestamp of the declaration, Bartlett was the first 'official' casualty of the war, shot down and plucked from the ocean by the spy ship that had been sent for one last check on Sand Island AFB instead of one of his trainees. But he hadn't let himself be the first P.O.W of the war. He'd broken free from his captors before they'd gotten him into a camp, or even before they'd gotten him to land. Waterlogged, Bartlett had none the less reached Yuktobania on his own and evaded patrols for a good few days before he was found not by Yuktobanian forces, but by the resistance.

That had been the first time Bartlett learned Yuktobania's entrance into the war being less than wanted. By that point, it was mostly kids, ones who'd grown up hearing about peace and ones who hadn't wanted to be one of the several hundred thousand Yuktobania had drafted in preparation for the war.

But what was most shocking was when he was taken to meet their leader, a face he knew and had spent the last 15 years thinking about: Nastasya Obertas. Although now a major rather than a lieutenant , the Yuktobanian intelligence officer Bartlett had had a temporary fling with during the Belkan War hadn't changed from what attracted him in the first place: a cool and calculated mind combined with a drive to do good that rivaled his own. Would've been love at first sight if there hadn't been rank and file above them that stamped it out.

The reunion could've done without the audience, but he took what he got. As it turned out, there was more to the dissent then draft dodging. While Bartlett had stayed in the same position, she'd climbed the ladder to be on the military staffs in Cinigrad, close to the Prime Minister. But when he disappeared and hardliners took over, she deserted to find him.

Bartlett had been suspicious of Yuktobania's sudden aggressive, and these new facts just cemented it: There was something going on behind the scenes in the country, and it could set off a war to kill millions on both sides, including Bartlett's trainees.

So, with the support of the dissident, they resolved to find and stop it. Two fugitives on the run from each of their governments. Didn't get much more romantic than that.

They played off each other well in that regard. Bartlett was more than able to rile up the dissidents into a somewhat capable fighting force. From sniffing for clues in the shadows, they got direct in their methods. Nastasya always knew where to look, and Bartlett led the charge. Yuktobania had recognized them as an insurgent group before Osea even invaded the Bastok Peninsula.

Their finding of the truth had been largely a fluke: They'd been monitoring Yuktobanian unit movments and communications for ambush purposes when they intercepted messages in Belka. It took a few days of electronic magic on her end, but they'd tracked it all the way back to Belka and the Grey Men, and suddenly the war made a lot more sense.

Or at least it had for a few short days. Aliens? Bartlett had no strong opinion on the more complex issues in life. He still had his two simple creeds to live by. The plan had only needed a little fine tuning. Breaking out the Prime Minister had always been in the plan, but they were through early now. No point letting him rot. Once he was free, they could focus on fighting back.

"Here comes the cavalry." Bartlett grinned to himself as a spotlight lit up the gate from outside the compound. A moment later, a trio of BTRs crashed through, running down the Interior Troops or crushing them with their own cover. Machine gun fire from the armored vehicles finished off whoever was left.

As the vehicles came to a stop, the troop compartments opened and more resistance members emerged to either scavenge the dead for supplies or help their wounded comrades to the APCs. "Come on! I don't want to spend another second here!" Bartlett waved them out of cover and went to help the Prime Minister himself.

Nastasya had come out of the lead APC, adorned in sunglasses and the black military jacket that gave her an appearance that was, in Barlett's opinion, both intimidating and sexy, and rushed over. "He's alive. Just a little woozy." She nodded to show she'd heard him and assisted the other fighters in escorting Nikanor into the middle APC.

Bartlett kept heading for the lead APC, and the fighter in the driver seat jumped out when he saw the man approaching. They all knew by now Bartlett was always the one in the lead. The armored vehicle may have been as cramped as the pilot seat, but was nowhere near capable of moving at a speed Bartlett liked. Still, it was heavy and had power, two things he could take some enjoyment from.

"Nicely done." Nastasya smiled as she climbed into the passenger seat. "I was certain they were going to execute him soon."

"Well, they won't get another chance now. So, what's it like out there?" While Bartlett had led this mission, she'd tried to get a better idea of what had happened in the last 24 hours outside this deserted stretch of country.

"The EMP crippled most of the country. Enemy aerial forces bombed the local airfields five hours ago, taking all of them offline."

"So we can't use them to get out of here?" The original plan had been to steal a cargo plane from one of the local air fields and make a break to freedom with the Prime Minister. "Guess I'm still stuck on the ground for a while. What else?"

"The enemy has landed a large number of forces in Jilache Desert and are deploying towards Cinigrad and here." She responded coolly. "There was another landing in the south and they've started capturing areas of the Romny border. There was another landing further west, but they haven't gotten much intelligence on it."

"Huh, so our new friends started three fronts at once? Interesting." Bartlett commented as he drove the APC out of the gate and into the remote Yuktobanian countryside. That could be a weakness; every front after one was a risk. "So give it to me straight: how bad does it look?"

"For your country? Very. Osea's spread its ground forces thin and over extended their supply lines. The only place they can bring significant firepower to bare is outside Cinigrad. Most of them are going to be swept aside."

"Damn." Bartlett swore in the first show of genuine frustration. War was war, but those were still going to be some heavy losses to stomach. "Brass was stupid to think we'd be able to conquer Yuktobania after the downsizing." He shook his head. They'd move on and do what they could. "What about your people?"

"Worse." Nastasya responded just as coolly as before. "Osea's destroyed most of our manufacturing infrastructure and top military forces. The majority of Yuktobanian forces are now under-strength, under-supplied, and inexperienced."

"The good news is most of them are deployed in or around Cinigrad." Nastasya went on. "The mountains around the city mean there's only one good route to the Capital if they want to avoid harsh fighting in the mountains. If the enemy does try and take the Capital, the force differences will be lessened."

"That's something at least." Bartlett nodded.

"There are missile silos in the mountains around Cinigrad." She continued. "They've been active since Osea took Cruik Fortress. The people leading Yuktobania are the same ones that were in power during the cold war, so I think they'll be more likely to use a nuclear option."

"On their own country." Bartlett shook his head. "So what do you think is our best option is right now?" You had to pick your battles carefully, especially when you were a small force like they were. Osea and Yuktobania had stopped fighting each other and were now fighting together, so the option of rejoining their own countries' militaries was there. But last time Bartlett had checked, the Osean Military had a capture or kill order on his head. Whether or not the fighting had stopped, that wasn't a good thing to have on hanging over you. Besides, he'd gotten use to moving on his own.

"The enemy is far too condensed at the moment for typical resistance actions. Helping the conventional military forces would do the most harm."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Right now, the Osean forces on the Bostock Peninsula are the best bet. It's another front the enemy's active on. The more fronts, the weaker they are."

"Sounds good." Bartlett nodded. "But we're going to need more than just us. You find them yet?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Although I had to tune into an Osean frequency. You were right- they did survive. From what I picked up, they seem to have found out about the Grey Men on their own too." Bartlett grinned.

"I guess you owe me that date after all. I knew Kid and them would pull through." Bartlett had always seen the strength in them. Not serious or blood thirsty, but they had heart, and that counted for a lot. They'd done well in during the war - that much couldn't be denied no matter the circumstances - and he was willing to bet they'd be the key to helping solve this mess too. "Can we reach them?"

"Not anymore. The electromagnetic pulse destroyed the systems we were using. We're going to have to find another one."

"Oh? And where can we find one?"

"At this moment? Okchabursk, since it's the headquarters for defenses in this part of the country. We're a day's drive away right now. I think our enemy would need three days to reach the city."

"Sounds like a plan then." Bartlett decided. "We'll round up whoever we can and join the defenses there. I want a front row seat against these new guys."

"How daring." Nastasya smirked at him.

"Well, we got to make a good first impression. Once kid gets here, we're going show them they picked the wrong planet to mess with."

X 127th Emperor Hetto, above earth. December 13th X

It had been exactly a day since the invasion had properly began. Time and progress moved slowly in Race society. To see any significant change in even a life time was rare. To see something significant change in a day was unthinkable. Even the conquests of the last two planets had been a slow undertaking that took a full year to be completed.

But events were moving much faster on Tosev 3 due to necessity. Reports had been stacking up remarkably fast, even with Kirel's duty as second in command to filter only the most important to the Fleetlord's attention. Atvar had further tried to simplify things by ordering only combat reports sent; while Race researchers and scientists were eager to get onto the planet and study it, there were more important matters at the moment.

Casualty reports were the most plentiful. Over 300,000 males killed already, most of them from the starships that had been shot down. It was the single greatest loss of life in a short time period in their history. Even the worst seismic disasters hadn't caused so much damage, nor had any of the very few spacecraft accidents that had ever occurred. Losses in air and ground combat had claimed close to 70,000 lives already. The only consolation was they'd made progress despite the losses.

The Osean Landmass was the most successful, a status it carried solely because they'd captured what they were certain at this point was the most powerful Tosevite empire. The industry and resources they'd captured already would easily support the Conquest Fleet through this task. The first day and their greatest threat was defeated already.

The situation south of Osea… Atvar hadn't thought the Tosevite's addled enough to detonate explosive metal bombs on their own land. Nor had he expected a nuclear exchange to already occur. Given the irrefutable evidence on Tosevite capabilities and time in advance to think, the conquest had started with Atvar more ready than not to use their stockpile. But it was not a decision he made lightly.

For such a small empire, Leasath had already inflicted nearly a quarter of the current casualties. Not only through explosive metal bombs, but the strange 'clouds of death' they'd received reports about. Atvar didn't wish to damage the planet, but such a grave threat warranted the utmost power they possessed. Leasath wouldn't be inhabitable once the Colonization Fleet arrived, but at least they'd be able to settle, and hopefully the display would further dissuade the Tosevites from their resistance.

Fortunately, the other southern nation Aurelia was almost conquered. All that wasn't under Race control was their capital. That left the other four nations between it and Osea. Once Osea was completely occupied, forces could be dispatched across the border into those empires. Until then, they would face killercraft attack. The climate in those countries was decent, if humid. It would be good to have them ready for the settlers.

The countries north and west of Osea were similarly general success with a sole setback. They were getting armed resistance around the region of the empire called Belka, but those eastern empires had fallen quickly and would be completely conquered within days just like Osea. Wellow though, was looking more and more like a mistake. 372 males lost to a climate that no logical species would settle in, yet the Tosevites had and made an advanced civilization in. But they were making progress and the shiplord in charge insisted they could overcome it, so Atvar didn't pull back those forces but resolved to keep a close eye turret on the situation there.

The landmass called Verusa could be considered a partial success. The southern and western countries had stopped posing a significant threat and would be completely conquered within days like Osea. There was a collection of small islands southwest of the continent that apparently constituted an empire, possible the only place on this planet The Race hadn't yet striked. It was a curiosity more than a concern, and there weren't any plans regarding it yet.

Given how vast Yuktobania was and how condensed he'd ordered his forces to land, it would be days before progress was made in that country. A persisting problem was the anti-killercraft weapons the warring Tosevite empires had set up to counter each other- killercraft losses were consistently holding at too high a number no matter how many strikes they sent out. If they didn't resolve that issue soon, it could weaken operations across the entire planet.

Problems were much more numerous in the landmass called Anea, which at this point was the least successful phase of the invasion. Nordennavic was even worse and the casualty rate triple that of Wellow. The shiplords had appealed for a retreat, which Atvar granted them. The forces would return to their starships starting today and would instead transfer to western Emmeria, a country that seemed to be falling quickly despite heavy resistance in its eastern half. It would also potentially free up forces for the invasion of Estovakia, a very sore spot in the Fleetlord's side.

Missile technology was the peak of the Race's conventional military technology. It didn't seem to be the Tosevite's, but it was a technology they'd somehow exceeded The Race in, building missiles bigger and more powerful than any they had. Why Estovakia had such technology was an illogical fact at worse and confusing at best. The forces that had landed on the southernmost lands were reporting the empire was in shambles, including its infrastructure and economy. How did a barely functioning empire maintain weapons like that when the rest of its military might was weak or not existent? That issue aside, progress was still being made in the country and the explosive metal bomb attacks would hopefully force them to surrender.

Efforts in Usea didn't seem to be moving at all. It was a small landmass and his forces were well within engagement range of the Tosevites, but the forces in the east hadn't come into contact with Tosevites and commanders in the western half were reporting their communication systems failing and either halting their forces or severely disorganizing them. There were floods of reports coming in about 'ghost craft', killercraft invisible to Race radar, attacking killercraft groups and bombing ground forces. How such a thing was possible, Atvar didn't know, but the consistent reports worried him.

He had yet to decide what to do over North Point. Such a small island, he'd only been interested in it for the numerous airports there, sending just a small force to capture it and intending to transfer the rest to the main landmass. Instead they'd lost the whole starship and compliment to what the escorts had claimed had been missiles coming from underwater, another worrying issue though the missiles were far weaker than the ones in Estovakia. An explosive metal bomb seemed excessive for an area that posed little to no military threat or strategic advantage.

That was the broader picture, the scale of which a male in Atvar's position would normally manage. But for various reasons centering around concern, he was accepting lower level reports, those filed by low ranking officers engaged on the ground. He wanted to know if the situation on that level was as troublesome as it was on this one. Unfortunately, it was.

The Tosevite militaries, when they did engage The Race, were proving equal or even better. Their infantry carried a wider range of weaponry to Infantry Males, such as machine guns that would normally only be seen on landcruisers or troopcarriers. No doubt an advantage of their size, they could even carry rockets capable of destroying landcruisers, a weapon that couldn't possibly be made into a size small enough for a male to use.

But that was only half the reason the loss rate of armored forces were high- the Tosevite landcruisers and troopcarriers weren't something to dismiss. Most were an equal match for their own, and some in the larger empires appeared even better just from reports to far. The war on the ground was getting as costly as the one in the air.

Killercraft losses continued to be horrific. Anti-killercraft weaponry was abundant on this planet, no doubt due to fear of attack from other Tosevite empires. Killercraft, missiles, and even guns, archaically (for an outdated weapon, it still had an effect). In a similar situation to anti-landcruiser missiles, Tosevite infantry also had infantry anti-air missiles. A lot of these weapons had been destroyed or captured by ground forces, but the skies of Tosev 3 were still very dangerous. Only slightly better news, a term that didn't outwardly fit with the issue, was that 6,252 killercraft had not been destroyed and were waiting to be repaired and returned to combat. Should their repairs follow the normal and thorough procedure, they'd all be back in service in just under two years.

Despite all the setbacks, the conquest was showing signs so far of being successful. It was all the unfortunate deaths that hampered the mood of what should've been another proud moment in their Empire's history. It was costly, possibly the most costly thing ever undertaken, but so far they seemed to be succeeding. Hopefully, it would be over soon.

Atvar was on the bridge, watching combat footage that had been sent by a concerned Large Combat Group leader when Kirel entered. "Exhalted Fleetlord." He bowed by way of greeting. Atvar finally tore his eye turrets away from the troubling footage to face his subordinate. "The conquest is going well, is it not?"

"It is progressing." Atvar wasn't fond of lying, even if the truth was less than satisfactory. "Is there something you wish to tell me?" He went on. Kirel nodded.

"I'm only reporting in directly, Fleetlord. Our researchers are very persistent to get onto the planet, although I've had to deny many of their requests." Atvar nodded approvingly. "I did allow some into the Osean empire; their war factories and space center are there and I thought it would benefit us to look at the manufacturing process for their weapons."

"A good decision." Atvar acknowledged. Kirel said the next part with some reluctance.

"A collection of scientists wish to study the Tosevite orbital ship we shot down, using the same equipment we used to study the oceans on Home." Home was a desert planet with very little water on it, rivers or seas. Exploration of it and its life was a task that had been completed a long time ago and it was a subject of interest to only a few. "But since we did not bring such equipment, they are requesting use of our factory ships. I denied their request, of course." He added quickly.

"An interesting proposal." Atvar mused. They'd captured that space center, but they'd gain much more information from looking at the orbital craft they'd developed. The pilots who'd shot it down reported it had been equipped with weapons, meaning that Tosevite's were grasping at militarized spacecraft, a very dangerous thing as far as The Race was concerned. It was an important matter to look into, although not immediate.

"Should I have granted their request?" Kirel questioned. Atvar held up a claw to say no.

"Our factory ships aren't even producing yet, and the fighting is still intense. But they are right to be interested. Tell them to re-send their request in several days' time. Perhaps by then we will be in a better position to grant it."

"Of course, Fleetlord." Kirel confirmed. The other male hesitated from a few noticeable moments before saying something else. "One last thing, Fleetlord. Two messages were sent to you of which I am unsure of, and so I didn't immediately forward them."

"From who?"

"The shiplords, Exhalted Fleetlord. Several have become quite…upset with how the conquest is fairing so far and sent proposals for a change in execution. Only two wrote the messages, but several signed their support on both." The Fleetlord could see why Kirel was reluctant- a subordinate suggesting an action to their superior was highly unusual and possibly a veiled insult. It wasn't against the rules by any means, and in some cases proved helpful to an organization, but it was still unusual. Straha was the exception, but several subordinates at once? Very unusual.

"I see…" Atvar acknowledged and turned to the projector to bring up his messages. While he did that, he big Kirel to continue explaining.

"One proposal suggested we try and open negotiations with the Tosevites to convince them to surrender. Twenty four shiplords signed on it. They believe that since they attempted to communicate with us before hand, we may be able to negotiate with them. The other proposes a heavier use of our explosive metal bombs. Thirty shiplords signed their consensus to it….Straha drafted it, Fleetlord." That made Atvar pause for a moment before he continued and pulled up his inbox to see two new messages at the top as a rather long list of reports.

"Those are the messages, Fleetlord." Kirel confirmed. Atvar skimmed through the contents which were in line with what Kirel had said. As just as his second in command had said, there was a lift of signatures at the end in support of the ideas. He was only mildly surprised to see the shiplord who'd drafted the negotiations proposal was in command of a hospital ship in Usea.

"What levels are the rest of those shiplords?" Atvar questioned. While Shiplord was a title to any male who commanded a starship, there were actually tiers depending on what type of ship they commanded and a level of respect and authority relative to their tier. Shiplords commanding starships carrying troops and killercraft obviously held the highest level, due to their military training and higher responsibility. Mid-level shiplords typically commanded hospital or factory starships. The lowest level shiplords commanded supply or research ships. The highest tier were the most common, but the lower tiers did not go unnoticed.

"Exalted Fleetlord, all shiplords who signed in support of Straha's proposal were the highest level. Seventeen high level and six mid-level shiplords signed on the other proposal." Atavr mulled over that news and what it could possibly imply. Every male in the fleet was working towards one common goal, but the Tosevites were causing enough trouble that disagreements were already forming about how to accomplish that goal. It was bad enough the original invasion plan had to be disregarded, but now it seemed like they couldn't even agree on a new one.

Of course, Atvar held the highest rank and his orders would be obeyed no matter what the lower ranking shiplords thought. That was how highly regarded authority was in The Race. But Atvar disliked commanding that way. Those shiplords were as loyal to the Emperor as him and just as highly trained and educated, as well as the ones actually in contact with the Tosevites; he could not disregard what they thought so casually.

Furthermore, both these proposals proved how concerned the highest ranking males in the fleet were about the situation. It they were worried, those under them would worry and it would trickle down from there till it affected the entire Conquest Fleet. As leader, Atvar had to keep morale up and prevent that as well.

"Our arrival on this planet has been extremely violent." Atvar commented. "No male in our unified history has faced a problem this great or bloody. It is a great strain on the mind." Atvar, who'd spent most of his waking time watching combat footage broadcasted from the planet to get an idea of what they were facing, knew it had been for him. "I'm not surprised to see a reaction like this." He left it unsaid that he also blamed Straha for it; his 3rd in Command had set an example and proved Atvar was willing to accept input.

"How will you respond, Fleetlord?" Kirel questioned.

"The first proposal has some merit, I will admit." As Atvar had observed earlier, the Race was still in a position of relative superiority. Perhaps he'd overestimated the violent impulses of these natives and dialogue was possible- they seemed just as horrified by war as them. It would be the civil and peaceful way to end the conflict, not to mention far less damaging to the planet. And privately, Atvar didn't wish to further stroke Straha's ego by implying his ideas were superior to the Fleetlord's.

"We will reach out to the Tosevite leaders." Atvar decided. "To explain the severity of their situation and give them a chance to surrender without further violence."

"All of them, Fleetlord?" Kirel questioned. "Even the empires we've already conquered?"

"Yes." Atvar confirmed. 'Conquered' might've been too conclusive a term. They'd made great progress in many empires, but there was still resistance in them from small military forces or even civilian Tosevites, if the reports were to be believed. A full surrender would end that all. "Our scientists claim to have learned a basic grasp of the various Tosevite languages. We'll work with them to send the messages. I want a list of every male who can assist us."

"It shall be done." Kirel responded. Once his subordinate left, Atvar used a finger-claw to change the projected image to a satellite recording of the atomic blasts that had gone off in Leasath. He'd seen it several times, but it always managed to make the scales on his back stand up slightly. It was fortunate for The Race that they'd never used such weapons on Home even though they'd been developed before it was unified. Such a terrible weapon.

Hopefully these peace talks would be successful, otherwise Atvar feared the sight before him would become much more common before the Conquest was over.


	10. Chapter 10

XX A/N XX

So the trailer for Ace Combat 7 came out not too long ago, and it's put me in a difficult position. I can go back easily and rewrite some sections to make up for new information gleamed from the trailer. But…what the trailer and other sources has revealed so far actually throws a bunch of wrenches into what I had in mind for the future of this fanfic as well.

I'm not going to go on a hiatus- I already got the next chapter complete and truth be told the next few chapters will only cover a timespan of maybe two months, not enough to get to the aforementioned ruined plot plans. But once it comes out, I may go on break then to see what there is to learn and how I can work around it. I still fully intend to finish this story. Worse case scenario, I just gotta go on a rewriting binge. But I'm still hoping I can fit things snugly into the Ace Combat canon timeline and geography. If we actually get a full map of Usea though, I am seriously screwed.

X Skies above Amber, Usea. December 13th 2010 X

Lensen couldn't remember a time even during the last war that the tempo of operations had been this feverish. He couldn't recall a moment today he'd been on the ground for more than 20 minutes before being launched back up with his squadron on another sortie. His brain, fueled by constant adrenaline and mild amphetamines to counter how tired his body was, was beginning to regard everything as somewhat hazy. Yet he preserved, like every member of ISAF, as long as the enemy was still upon them.

Who exactly they were fighting was still a mystery, although they were starting to get an idea. When they'd been flying CAS for the retreating brigades from the border, the soldiers on the ground had repeatedly referred to the enemy as 'lizards', or several very creative variations of it. By this point, everyone on the ground and in the air was using the term 'lizard army' or 'reptile army' in one way or another, so they seemed to have concluded their enemy was reptilian.

No one could see the weirdness in that sentence though with the fighting going on.

Despite that, the situation seemed to have stabilized somewhat. Amber's military forces were no longer in complete retreat. Over 15,000 troops had now stopped and dug in an arc around NAS Serenity and Amber's southern coast, with less than 30 miles between them and water. It was already a definitive defensive line; all of Usea was hearing about Amber's troops standing their ground against the invaders just as the more powerful FCU and Erusea were. But like those two fronts, they weren't alone.

FCU reinforcements had come to strengthen that line. Transport planes had been dropping paratroopers around nearby towns and forests. The ships in the gulf had dropped off Marines and vehicles to further reinforce the line, and the ships themselves had been firing off cruise missiles occasionally against the enemy.

Even better, they'd brought a fleet carrier with them, and it had given ISAF defenses here a hell of a boost. A squadron of X-02s and three squadrons of Rafales had joined in on the action and firmly tipped the scales in ISAF's favor. A trio of E-2Cs were providing command and control for the fighting here and in southeast Erusea, directing flights to their targets and tracking enemy movements. But by far the most useful thing they'd brought with them were four EA-6Bs, and thus electronic warfare capabilities, to the front.

Those four planes and their crews had been in the air more than any of the other, landing and taking off again within minutes. They were really pushing themselves, but the payoff had been invaluable. Their jamming had kept the enemy ground forces disorganized and unable to call for help, thus easy pickings. Alien fighters couldn't detect or fire on anything within the jamming area, and so the modified Intruders had spent a good part of the day escorting in Rafale strikes to the enemy's rear. There'd only been a few aircraft losses, including a Wyvern, to gunfire, but for the most part the enemy's air power was completely blunted.

The X-02s and F/A-22s didn't need that aid, but Lensen had still spoken with one crew on a return flight. "We could do this with our eyes closed. The Erusians would give us maybe a minute before using counter measures or sending fighters at us. These guys? They aren't even trying." This was hardly a challenge for them.

Aside from that strike power and support assets, the FCU was lending them logistics support: transports carrying caches of radar-guided air-to-air missiles and unguided bombs had landed earlier in the day, and although they'd burned through all of it by mid-day, it had been enough to hold the enemy. They were also fed a steady stream of news on events in Usea and the world that was relayed to the fleet and then onto the pilots to help boost morale.

Usean news came first obviously, but the big news was the North Point operation. There were always rumors the FCU was building secret weapons in the islands under its jurisdiction, and for once they proved to be right. As conventional as these aliens seemed, there was absolutely no indication they had a grasp of naval warfare. Having an ace in the hole was doing a lot of good for ISAF morale.

Other than that, the FCU was continuing to hold its own. Delarus hadn't faced a ground invasion yet, but their Air Force was said to be giving great aid to San Salvacion even though its Capital had been completely overrun at the start of the day. Erusea had held Whisky Corridor, which didn't surprise Lensen at all; he'd been the one to break that defensive line the first time, and he could still remember how hard it had been. Fighting had started outside of Farbanti only an hour ago as well, but no updates had come in after that. Ugellas was the only country they heard no news of, presumably because there was nothing positive to say.

Foreign news was of less interest to ISAF forces, and harder to obtain anyway after the EMP. The only fight most of them could feel invested in was on Anea; those nations were heavy customers of Usean military hardware, and had been good trade partners when the continent didn't want to trade with either Osea or Yuktobania. Apparently, several alien ships had been shot down over the continent, which was good news for everyone. ISAF was quietly rooting for them, but that was about it.

Speaking of Osea, it had fallen practically overnight, they were told. Like a lot of Useans, Lensen had a hard time feeling sorry for them. Though Osea's current president had tried to patch relations with the Usean Nations (an effort voided by the ruthless total war they'd waged against Yuktobania), the first Continental War was simply too fresh in their minds to forgive the people who'd indirectly caused it. Lensen himself thought back to his time in a refugee camp after the URF took Amber whenever Osea was brought up. But since it meant the enemy could focus more on them, it was something to worry about.

They couldn't find out much about Verusa, except the enemy seemed to have put the most forces on that continent and that a lot of fighting was going on there. The Osean and Yuktobanian militaries were both on that continent. Politics and personal feeling aside, one had to acknowledge those two forces as the most powerful on the planet. If anyone else could give the invaders a hard time, it was them.

It was all background noise to the Usean front, though, and even less so to those fighting the constant war in Amber. There were alien ground forces spread throughout the northern and western parts of the country and aircraft were still in the air. They had to stop them first.

Amber's Naval Aviation and the FCU's Rafales had been the ones attacking the ground targets, while Lensen's own squadron and the other X-02 squadron had been repeatedly sortied on air superiority missions. Most of these had taken them near the San Salvacion border, attacking the alien fighters providing top cover to both give the other aircraft an open shot at the ground forces and force the enemy to redirect aircraft for air defense, splitting their resources. Twice they'd intercepted what were apparently bombing sorties against the lines. One such mission had taken them into Erusia where they had a short but pleasant reunion with Captain Krehle, whose squadron had survived and was still fighting.

Most of the engagements had proved anti-climactic like the first few. The enemy still couldn't see them coming and were making no efforts to do so. The enemy aircraft still flew in the same tight formations that broke only when they were attacked. The Erusians had changed their flying patterns the day after the FCU stared deploying its F/A-22s on air interdiction. Nothing about these aliens seemed to change- their design, their formations, their maneuvers, or their weapons. If the AWACS and EW planes hadn't said they were picking up enemy chatter, Lensen would've believed every one of them drones, mass produced to swarm any enemy. Even Usean pilots who'd neither been in the Continental Wars or trained by veterans of those wars could best them in close quarters. For a man of Lensen's skill, it was so easy it disappointed him.

Again though, they weren't invincible. Mobius Squadron's planes were invisible only till the enemy knew they were under attack. If the enemy knew where to look, their fire control radars _could_ lock onto them. Or not even tracking; Mobius 6's plane had been damaged by gunfire earlier that day and grounded. Getting close and ambushing was their strength, but they still had to play it careful.

But as the day progressed they continued to push the enemy back in the air and stall them on the ground. They could fly above virtually all of Amber with only the occasional threat of SAM attacks- a FUN flight had bombed an enemy position just on the Amber- San Salvacion border. Enemy fighters were still in the air, but not so densely packed that ISAF aircraft couldn't get passed them or needed a EW escort.

It was evening now, and Mobius squadron was being sent on a 9th and final sortie before they could turn in for the night for some much needed rest. One of the EA-6s running recon had reported a significant enemy force had arrived in Amber's Capital and were apparently turning it into a base of operations, with command centers and heavy defenses already being set up as the sun set. Given the target, command had seen it fit to send them.

The X-02 and F/A-22 weren't considered attack aircraft or even multirole. They were through and through designed as fighters, high speed with stealth and good maneuverability. But there were next to no fighters in the world that couldn't at least act in some air to ground capacity, and they weren't an exception.

The Raptors could carry JDAMs in their internal weapons bays- two 1000 pound guided bombs. That wasn't a lot compared to some aircraft, but it was two guaranteed hits on any target. The stealth capabilities gave it a good chance to evade SAMs, making it a decent and less expensive alternative to stealth bombers. The only downside was it could only carry 4 air to air missiles with that loadout.

Having been initially designed for the Erusian Navy and later the Air Force, the X-02 had obviously been expected to carry out a variety of missions. To that effect, it'd been designed to be able to use most domestic and foreign designed missiles, be they anti-air, surface, ship, or even radiation. Taking advantage of that, the X-02s were given a mixed load of two AIM-7s (their stock of 120s were running lower and lower and their range was wasted when the Squadron was always ambushing the enemy at close range), two AGM-65s, and lastly a pair of AGM-88s. Inside the internal bays were two bomblet dispensers, a purely Usean modification for attacking grouped targets by raining miniature explosives on them.

The concern now was being seen by ground forces who could report their position, so upon taking off Mobius Squadron rose to 25,000 feet where they'd be near un-seeable specs to anyone on the ground. The seven headed northeast with the setting sun behind them towards the Capital.

Even though all of today's action had drained the pilots enough that nearly all their willpower was on just staying in the air, all of them tried to stay more focused for this last sortie. Usean Nationalism had been steadily rising since the end of the last century, spurred by foreign threats, Ulysses, and both Continental Wars. But national borders and those identities remained. The members of Mobius Squadron were first and foremost Amber citizens. This was their home, and it was their Capital being occupied.

They'd all been there before. As the pride of the nation, Mobius Squadron tended to conduct fly bys during important events, such as the anniversaries of the end of the wars. Lensen himself had personally been invited by the then Prime Minister to the unveiling of a monument to Amber citizens and soldiers killed during the Erusian Occupation. Whenever there was a security threat, such as an airline hijacking that had occurred two years ago in the neighboring FCU, Mobius Squadron was always called to defend the air space above.

Now it was in enemy hands. This was a personal affront to them, and it drove them more than the worry of all of Usea being defeated.

"Mobius 1 to Chess Master, come in." Lensen went to establish contact with the E-2 directing operations in eastern Amber.

"Chess Master reads you, Mobius 1. Honor to meet you, colonel." The communications officer was different from the one who'd been assigned a few years ago.

"What's the situation in the Capital?" Lensen asked.

"ISAF retreated to save it from air attack yesterday. Lizards captured it around noon today. Command thinks they're trying to flank around the armored forces in the western FCU. They got their own armored forces massing on the east side of the city and multiple aircraft landed the airport." The airport in the Capital was used by both the military and civilian airliners. It could hold a lot of aircraft. "There's a high volume of radio traffic originating from within the city now that's definitely theirs. Good chance they're command posts."

"We're watching 20 enemy fighters above the city, all between 8,000 and 12,000 feet. 10 are flying above the eastern section. Three are patrolling the north, and seven right on your heading. Several took off from the airport earlier, so don't expect many reinforcements. Enemy ground presence south of the city is minimal. Priority is still on disrupting and slowing down the enemy. Higher wants those command posts off the air tonight. You can engage other targets at your own discretion." Chess Master finished.

"Alright." Lensen had made his plan almost of soon as the brief was over. "Relay the coordinates of those CPs to the Raptors- they have the guided munitions." The JDAMs were guided by GPS, which ISAF still had thanks to part of the FCU's satellite network that had survived the meteors and been hastily repaired during and after the war, and were the obvious choice to ensure both that the targets were hit and there wouldn't be as much collateral damage. "They'll hit those targets and engage the enemy CAP. We'll hit the forces massing on the east and then join them. We got HARMs, so relay any SAM sites you see to us."

"Copy that, Colonel, we'll send the data in a moment." Planes could detect and mark their own targets, but nothing beat information they didn't have to organize themselves. The data popped up on their computer, indicating the distance to the target area. "There you are sir, give them hell."

"Roger that, Chess Master. We'll cripple their ground forces and re-establish air superiority." Lensen confirmed. "Squadron, maintain current heading. It won't take us long to get there." At their speed, it would take less than half an hour to get halfway across the country. As he finished saying that, he shifted in his seat, grunting at the mixed feeling of pain and relief in muscles. _Just this one last sortie._ He told himself.

"I'm surprised we still have GPS after two days of fighting." Mobius 5 remarked as they flew. "You'd think the enemy would've have taken it out by now."

"Well, I'm not complaining that they didn't." Mobius 7 responded, a yawn slightly skewing the last two words.

With so many wars here on the surface, space was still relatively unknown or just not interesting to people on the ground; the number of space programs in the world could be counted on one hand. The Usean Space Program was less than 25 years old, its creation only coming after Osea and Yuktobania extended their Cold War into the stars above. Even then, infighting among the contributing countries had kept the continent behind the two superpowers.

Still, through diplomacy and common interest, Usea had come together to launch nearly two dozen satellites in that time, nearly a quarter of them military. Ulysses had destroyed a few of them, but there were still plenty up there today, providing Usean civilians with better quality of life and Usean militaries with more connected and advanced capabilities. The spy satellite ISAF had launched during the Second Continental War was even still up there, probably getting a new work out with the current invasion.

The peculiar thing was while the world below was burning, the space above wasn't. Even though most of the channels had gone off the air, satellite radio and TV was still accessible. None of ISAF's communications or navigation networks had gone down either. Even though they clearly had a better mastery of space, the enemy wasn't attacking them on that front.

They weren't attacking them from that front either. Lensen had just been a boy when Osea had announced its space weapons program, but the impact and implications lasted long enough for him to understand. Orbital bombardment, a fear that exceeded even nuclear war. Wide scale death and destruction in seconds, impossible to defend against. Weapons beyond the reach of any possible counter attack... Even though that worldwide fear had convinced Osea to drop the more extreme aspects of the project, the concept was impossible to take away. When the alien ships had finally been spotted, that fear had come back full force. Up until the aliens started sending fighters down, everyone had been holding their breath in anticipation for all hell to fall on them.

But it hadn't. The fact was becoming more and more apparent as things went on, but space was not playing so big a role in this invasion. It had given the enemy key points to launch their invasions from and it was probably giving them unparalleled intelligence capabilities with a full view of the world, but the rest was proving overwhelmingly conventional. If they could defeat just the enemy forces on the ground, it seemed like they'd win the war regardless. That was a welcoming thought, but they, and the majority of ISAF, were still thinking further.

Osea was the only country who'd truly succeeded in creating space weaponry in the form of its Arkbird, and even that was purely defensive. Attacking targets from space hadn't even been realized, so obviously attacking targets in space was even further away. Lensen's extent of knowledge on the subject was limited at best. If any ISAF member had ever explored the concept, they were keeping it tight lipped.

But as long as they could win down here, they had a chance. Everyone knew that, and everyone was focused on it. The enemy above could wait till they defeated the enemy below.

"We're approaching the mission area." Lensen reported several minutes later, past the point the sun had set and they'd had to switch their optics. "Raptor flight, you have your orders. We'll go low, swing around the south, and make two passes. Fire your HARMS on the first pass, aim for the enemy armor on your second. I want as much of the enemy CAP shot down as possible before we bug out."

"That's a lot of targets." Mobius 2 commented at the sea of green circles on their HUDs. Well over a hundred, they were sure, all grouped tightly together. There were little tags beside the circles representing the SAMs marking them as priority targets. Lensen noticed they'd placed only a few south of the city. "But I've never seen the Capital that dark before…"

There was plenty of artificial light below, but most of it was grouped on the outskirts of the city where the enemy was gathered. Amber's largest city itself was completely dark- there wasn't a light to be seen from anywhere except exactly where the enemy CPs were marked. The EMP had plunged most of the continent into darkness.

"Let's not try and start any fires then." Mobius 8 suggested.

"Let's not." Lensen agreed. They were closer to the city now. "Begin the attack." The Raptors had already locked onto the meager air patrol on their heading and let loose their 120s before starting a slight descent to drop their JDAMs, The Wyverns all rolled to the right and down, losing 20,000 feet of altitude in seconds before pulling out of their dive. They raced over the fields south of the city, no doubt alerting the enemy forces below them, including the three SAM sites.

Word of mouth and experience were the only reliable ways to learn about the enemy's capabilities so far, but almost every account so far to collaborated that they only had missile based anti-air defense. Like their aircraft, it was all the exact same. Radar guided with the radar and launcher both contained to one bulky vehicle. The exact specs on the range and speed escaped them so far, but it was known it couldn't detect stealth aircraft and was _very_ vulnerable to jamming and counter measures.

"JDAMs out." Lensen looked north for a moment to see several bright explosions briefly break through the dark. "We're engaging the enemy CAP."

"Shit, I think we just hit the southern part of the Parliament Building!" Mobius 8 sounded panicked. The others heard him but kept focused on their tasks. Lensen kept a firm hand on the control stick as they rounded the south side of the city, his RWR making uneven noise as the enemy radars tried and failed to grab his Wyvern's signature. His flight separated as they came up, Lensen sticking closer to the city and his wingmen targeting the center and outside of the assembled targets.

He raced above gathered columns of vehicles, too fast to properly identify them. This would've been much harder if they'd decided to move their vehicles into the city itself. As it was, they'd given the pilots the easiest targets they'd ever had. He switched to and armed the 88s, watching as they quickly searched and found targets in a collection of three SAMs grouped near the highway that ran east into the FCU. Lensen fired and rolled to the right in a standard precaution against any of the vehicles locking onto him. Both targets were destroyed moments later.

Lensen immediately pulled back on the stick, and the Wyvern ascended in a half loop until he let go at the midway point. Coming out inverted, the Wyvern quickly righted itself and in mere seconds was heading the direction it had come, right towards the lined up enemy vehicles. This also had the effect of putting him at a higher altitude.

His RWR warned him he was being tracked, and unlike the last few minutes held steady instead of being sporadic. Then it turned into a missile warning. Lensen automatically deployed chaff, pulled up, and sped into the sky above, gaining as much distance as he could. The warning abruptly ended, his plane unharmed. Stealth aircraft weren't a perfect science, but as long as they had capable pilots, they didn't need to be.

By the time Lensen had brought his plane back down and around, the other three Wyverns had expended their air-to-ground weapons and were already rising the help the Raptors higher above the Capital, leaving the fields to the east burning. There were still a few SAMs dotted around the area, and Lensen choose to expend his two AGMs against them, choosing to fire at two placed closer to the city.

Bomblet dispensers were a difficult weapon to use, an unguided weapon whose behavior could vary wildly depending on the how the deploying aircraft was flying. The more erratic, the wider the bomblets spread. The faster the aircraft was going, the further and thinner they dispensed. Individually they weren't all that powerful, and a concentration was needed to destroy harder targets. A lot of pilots in the past two wars had been shot down by AAA fire trying to maximize the potential.

Fortunately for him, the enemy had lined their vehicles up in neat file. There weren't many SAMs left and their fighters were all thousands of feet above. It would be the easiest bomb run ever. The Wyvern's unfolded wings gave his plane the necessary stability as he lined up with one of the columns and pulled on the air brake, flipping the switch for the dispenser in preparation. The Wyvern almost glided through the air towards the enemy vehicles. Just short of the group, he hit the release.

Dozens of small pellets rained from the internal bay and down on and around the enemy vehicles, exploding on contact with either. Destroying the tracks, falling inside and damaging the control instruments, or maybe even triggering the fuel or munitions. Any worked as long as these vehicles wouldn't be deployed against Useans.

His plane entirely exhausted of air to ground ordinance, Lensen pulled back the stick and swiftly climbed, glancing behind him as he did. There were still a few dozen marked targets below, but a respectable amount had been destroyed. Between that and the command posts, they had to have crippled this particular ground unit.

That just left the fighters.

Lensen looked forward to gauge the situation. All the alien fighters seemed to have converged to above the middle of the city, the enemy deciding they stood a better chance at a close range dogfight, putting far too much faith in their aircraft. The other members of his squadron were weaving through the tangle of gunfire and missiles easily of their own accord. Some squadrons made their fame from teamwork, but Mobius Squadron was made up of pilots who'd made a name for themselves with individual action.

He joined the fray, immediately marking out a target- an alien fighter making a wide turn near the edge of the battle zone. He pulled behind in just behind as it leveled back out, carefully lining up with the target reticle on his HUD. When the target was centered, he depressed the trigger and watching as gunfire tore into the other plane. It slowed and started to pitch downwards, before the canopy blasted open and something shot out. Lensen turned to avoid hitting it and looked back to realize it was a parachute- the pilot was bailing out.

 _Is there anything different about these invaders?_ He turned his attention back to the fight. "Squadron, how are we doing?" He flew as he talked, watching for a new target. The enemy's number was on par with their own by then, and everyone was either pursuing or being pursued. The older members all responded in relaxed tones that they were dodging and shooting the enemy. Mobius 7 and 8 said the same, although with a noticeable shortness of breath.

Speaking of the younger members, he spotted one being pursued by two enemies just a few hundred feet above. As Lensen pulled up to get them off, the Raptor turned sharply to the right. The alien fighters weren't as maneuverable and before they realized it, the Raptor was coming up behind them and Lensen beside it. "I got the right one!" Mobius 8 radioed.

They were still flying in a circle when the Mobius planes got a lock on the enemy, who immediately broke apart in opposite directions. The one Lensen was after tried diving to get away, but by then it was too late. The AIM-7 found its mark and the flaming remains continued its downward descent now only by gravity. Lensen hoped more of it broke apart before it landed in the city or that most the people had evacuated. Every soldier knew war was war and collateral damage happened, but they always hoped for the least possible.

The aerial engagement lasted only another few short minutes during which Lensen didn't manage to down another plane. Their opponents had clearly started to panic in the last half minute as the few survivors found themselves being relentlessly chased by multiple fighters. But it was done and over and the planes of Mobius Squadron flew in the liberated air above their Capital.

"Everyone good?" Lensen asked. "Did anyone sustain damage?" His squadron members reported that they were all fine. "Good job, everyone. We still don't have our capital back, but it's a start." The enemy ground force was crippled and air superiority had been re-established. If ISAF could get a counter attack organized, there wouldn't be much to stop them from retaking the city.

"Radar is clear of aerial contacts. Chess Master, you following?"

"Confirmed neutralization of enemy CPs and CAP. Sky is clear for miles around." Chess Master sounded pleased. "Good job, Mobius Squadron. We knew you could do it. RTB and mind your altitude; there'll be a flight of Nighthawks coming in at 3,000." Stealth bombers? It was going to be a busy night, but the Capital might actually be free by tomorrow.

"Copy that, Chess Master. Tell them good hunting from us." Lensen exhaled loudly as the flight headed back west, the adrenaline ebbing to remind him how sore he was.

"Least we're still not losing, colonel?" Mobius 7 offered. No, they definitely weren't losing yet. Their enemy even seemed to have lost steam. Usea was a relatively small continent in the world, its countries smaller. A person could drive from Amber's southern coast to its northern border with San Salvacion in just over half a day. Two days in and the enemy didn't even have full control over the northern border. Hell, in two days the Erusians had crossed the entire width of Amber. These invaders were slow and they were tactically inept.

But even if experience told them it wasn't everything, the enemy's numbers were still worrying. Amber only had so many bullets. Only so many missiles. The pilots of Mobius could only push themselves so far. The enemy was slowing, but so were they. And these invaders seemed to still have so much capacity to fight. If the fighting continued, each side would only get more worn down, the destruction would only get worse, and more lives would be lost. A longer war was more destructive than a short one. One side would eventually break. Would it be the enemy? Or them?

"No, we're not losing." Lensen agreed. His eyes swept the country rendered powerless below. "But we're still fighting, and that might even be worse." His words flew over the heads of the two younger members of the squadron. But for the other four that had served in the Second Continental War too, they knew what he was thinking about.

"All the reason to fight harder though?" Mobius 3 suggested. Fight hard. Decisively weaken their enemy, maybe even defeat them. Every military in every war looked for that opportunity. Here, they could save Usea from another drawn out war when they hadn't even fully rebuilt from the previous two.

"Exactly." Lensen confirmed. He thought back to Stonehenge, one of his proudest moments. That had been a decisive blow that had upset the whole balance, causing Erusea to free fall for weeks, losing more than half their holdings. People had hoped it would hold and they could ride the momentum all the war to Farbanti. But once the Erusians had returned within their own borders and regrouped and armed their own citizens for resistance fighting, it had turned back into drawn out war.

To Lensen's knowledge, the aliens wouldn't have a net to catch them in a free fall. So if ISAF could deal a decisive blow to send them reeling just like then, would they be able to mop things up quickly? Would it be another saving grace for Usea? His mind was still tired, but that one idea managed to lodge itself so that it wouldn't be lost in a haze like the rest of tonight.

He'd follow that thought tomorrow. But for now, it was time to rest. They had to indulge that particular human necessity, especially with the fighting still as bad as it was. The enemy still had momentum they needed to break.

X December 14th, Ceres Ocean X

" _The fire's spreading!"_

" _There's a cave in! We can't get out!"_

" _They're going to suffocate in there!"_

" _Somebody help us! Please!"_

"Gah!" Andrews jerked up from the bunk panting and covered in sweat. "Damnit." He gasped. It had been a nightmare. No. A nightmare was fictional. That had been a recollection. Operation Snake Pit: Wardog squadron had been sent to destroy a Yuktobania weapons storage in the tropical jungles around Lake Dama.

The ammo dumps themselves were built into the local hills, so Wardog had been tasked with bombing the entrances to seal them up for good. They'd been successful in doing so, but at the same time managed to trap the Yuktobanian workers inside. The strikes had also caused fires that eventually set off the stored munitions, outright destroying the hills they occupied. It had been a major victory for the Osean advance.

But it had been a nightmare for the members of Wardog. The trapped workers had been trying desperately to get out, carelessly radioing their pleas over open channels in the hopes someone would respond to them. They hadn't been able to leave the area till they destroyed all the ammo dumps, so they'd had no choice but to sit and listen as the workers begged for help. No choice but to listen when they're words were cut off by the colossal explosions that they'd still felt high up in the air.

The whole thing had made all of them sick to their stomachs, but they'd gone on, insisting to themselves war was war and that they should just be glad they got to go home. It hadn't stopped the nightmares at first, but those had eventually waned. But the revelation of the truth of the war had forced them to think back to everything they'd done, and that operation in particular took on a horrifying new light. It wasn't surprising the nightmares had returned.

Realizing he wasn't getting back to sleep, he reluctantly forced himself out of the bunk. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just after ten in the morning. They'd all been given more time to sleep and recover since it was still obvious they were fatigued. The _Kestrel_ battle group was far enough from the fighting that they didn't need to be on alert.

Now if only that extra sleep could be helpful; Andrews had slept for 11 hours but still felt worse for wear. No matter what reassurances they got, it was human nature that kept the guilt dragging at them worse than any jetlag ever could.

 _With time._ He hoped to himself. Knowing full well he wouldn't get back to sleep, he decided he'd take a walk around the ship to get the stiffness out of his legs. After that? He'd think of something then.

Maybe it was subconscious, but his feet wound up carrying him to the Kestrel's hanger deck. All the carrier capable planes had already been moved over and the crews had gone to work to make sure all the aircraft were in working order and ready to be used. A few had gotten a noticeable redesign.

Andrews approached one of the F-35Cs, the naval variant of the same fighter he'd flown for the last few weeks of his career in the OADF. He wasn't focused on the differences as he was the aircraft's new look: solid jet black paint that covered up every possible form of identification on the aircraft. The only exception was the tail- a illustration of a certain pale figure had been painted on the outside of the twin tails: The Demon of Razgriz, or at least how it was portrayed in literature.

He stared up at the depiction of his namesake, new and lingering emotions making him feel conflicted. He hadn't even liked the moniker when they thought the war legitimate; what sane human would enjoy being likened to a demon infamous for causing death and destruction? But now, the part of the story where Razgriz was revered as a hero really resonated with him. It had resonated with all four of the former members of Wardog, especially Nagase and Chopper who'd known the story since childhood.

Yet at what cost? The Demon raining death upon the land for necessary before it could become a hero. But…could you actually be a hero when you were already a villain? Could you do enough good to make up for the wrong? The moniker was something to be proud of, but at the same time confusing.

"Good plane, isn't it, kid?" He turned head to see their former maintenance chief, 'Pops'. The older man who'd taken care of the planes on Sand Island and had been a figure to look up to by the young pilots all going there to train. Pops had just been a nickname for the man everyone had assumed was Peter N. Beagle, an Osean ace from the Belkan War.

He was an ace from that war, but as the pilots of Wardog had found out only recently, there was more to it. His name was actually Wolfgang Buncher, a former member of the Belkan aristocracy and its Air Force. He'd defected from Belka at the climax of the war and had been shot down for it, coincidently with Wardog's former commander Bartlett. The two had made it back to Osean lines with Bartlett giving Wolfgang the cover story he needed for a new life. And just like that, Wolfgang disappeared and the man only known as Pops was left, the truth known to only a few.

The Grey Men had been one of them, and it was something they'd used to get Wardog branded as traitors. But that was all irrelevant now. Still, what they knew now strangely fit into their own issues.

"Yeah, it is." The part of Andrew that still loved flying was earnest. "I was looking at the paint job, to be honest." Pops came up to stand beside him, looking at the figure painted on the tail as well.

"You don't like it?" He guessed. Andrew thought for a moment, weighing what he liked about their now official moniker against what he hated.

"I get how it fits." He admitted. "And I've always liked the way people depended on us. But…the name gets annoying after a while when everyone keeps saying it."

"I was never a fan of status like that." Pops informed him. "I saw so many pilots let it go to their heads and change. They either died trying to live up to it or became convinced they couldn't be beaten like our Grabacr friends. It's too stressful."

"Mhm." Andrew hummed agreement and waited a few moments before speaking again. "Hey, Pops? You've worn that Osean uniform for 15 years. Did you ever think about the Osean pilots you killed while you were still in the Belkan Air Force?" He turned to watch the older man's reaction.

"Sometimes." Pops admitted, but he outwardly showed no regret or sorrow. "I followed my orders. That's what you do in war. It's no one's fault who died so I don't beat myself up over it."

"Doesn't seem that easy."

"Everyone's different." Pops acknowledged. "Oseans think a lot differently then they did back then. I guess Harling really made an impact on the generation." He was probably right; their president's calls for peace really had resonated with the entire population. "Bartlett use to complain about it, sometimes. But I think he was glad about it."

"You think he's alive?" Andrews asked. They truthfully had no idea where their former captain had gone. Had he died that day? His past connections had been used by the Grey Men to help paint Wardog as spies, but had they just used that as an opportunity?

"Don't know for sure." Pops admitted. "But-" He was cut off by the ship's PA system announcing a meeting of high ranking officers to discuss their plan of action. Andew and Pops were part of that roster.

"Looks like we're needed. Just keep an eye on your teammates in the air and on the ground and you'll all be fine." Pops turned around and started heading out of the hanger. "You coming, Kid?" He called back.

"Yeah." Andrew confirmed, turning to follow the older man. As they walked he turned back to look of the Razgriz portrait one more time.

The _Kestrel_ hadn't only lost most of its air wing personnel. As the other surviving carriers of the Osean Maritime Self Defense Force fought on the front lines, they sustained damage and casualties. The war up to that point had advanced so quickly there was no time to train more people, so several hundred of the _Kestrel's_ crew had long since been reassigned. Not enough to render her incapable though.

Still, her Combat Direction Center was barren for such a mighty warship. The new group that inhabited the room now were a bit more diverse than the norm- President Harling, Captain Andersen, Pops, Andrew, and Snow, joined by two intelligence officers still assigned to the carrier. Andrew and Pops were the last to arrive and was explained too that this was an up to date briefing on the situation in Osea and Yuktobania.

"Some Osean news networks are still on the air and the Coastal Defense Force is still resisting." The Osean Coastal Defense Force jointly fulfilled the duties that a Coast Guard and Air Defense Force would handle in other countries. "From those, we've been able to get a pretty solid picture on the enemy's movements." A map of Osea had been pulled up for reference, and one of the intelligence specialists started to mark it as the other explained.

"We're sure we have the location of every spot the enemy has landed." He chose not to specify each one, and by the multiple circles his companion was sketching, it was a choice to save time. "The landings are mainly grouped around the Bennion Sea." Osea's inland sea was located roughly in the center of the country, and its access into the Ceres Ocean and other rivers that stretched into Osea made it a heavy center for waterborne traffic and shipping. A lot of industry and easily at least 20% of the Osean population lived within 100 miles of that body of water. If you couldn't occupy Oured, then the Bennion Sea was a good alternative, one Belka had attempted in the war 15 years ago.

The enemy had gone for both.

"The second largest landing was made just south of Oured, and their forces have already moved into the Capital. Bright Hill has already been taken." They explained, referring to the Osean Presidential residence. "We haven't heard anything about the Vice President or the Generals who took over after the President's abduction. A few members of the Osean Federation Council have appeared in local broadcasts urging the population to be calm." The Council was Osea's legislative body, its members elected by the populace. "A few of them weren't in Oured when it was captured. So, hopefully, we still have a few friends over there."

"The rest of the landings are comparatively smaller and more spread out, save for our southern border- they have four landing sites, all within a 300 square mile radius. They're probably going invade the southern countries from our own." No one chose to comment, so they continued.

"The enemy is spreading out from all these landing sites using the national highway system and aerial forces. They've occupied hundreds of urban centers, and by now probably have at least half the population under their control now. Their spread to the countryside is slower, but with the total collapse in government and domestic security forces, there is nothing that can stop them when they decide to." They let that cold reality set in from a few moments.

"How long do we have before they're in complete control?" Harling asked, perhaps wondering if they had enough time to evacuate some forces from Yuktobania and make an attempt to defend at least part of the country.

"It is entirely possible they'll be in full control of the country before the year is over." That was far too little a window. Everyone frowned at that news, and an uncomfortable, frustrated silence took over the room for a few minutes.

"What about Yuktobania?" The President finally asked. The map of Osea was shuffled and changed to one of Yuktobania, already pre-marked.

"Well, our forces in the center of the country are cut off, no doubts about it." They had the bad news out of the way first. We have at least 7 divisions there and the enemy between us. They have the airspace above the entire center of the country locked down." He explained grimly. "Our forces in the south are scattered; can't find them anywhere. The Osean forces in the east are the only ones we can reach right now." Everyone turned their focus to that part of the map.

"The Bastok Peninsula constitutes our best defensive position on the east coast due to the terrain. Most of the 27th Marine Regiment that was there seems to have been moved towards Osea, but several battalions from the 11th Infantry are still there on garrison duty. This area is our supply base for the whole theatre. Even if some was lost in the initial attacks, there should be plenty left to fight back with. Most of the OMDF, including two carrier battle groups, are defensively deployed around the peninsula."

"The peninsula to the north is far less stable." The intelligence officer went on. "As most of you will know, it was captured by the 101st and 122nd Airborne Divisions just a few days after Operation Footprint to neutralize Murska Air Base and any threats to our north. Those infantry forces are still thinly spread throughout the peninsula. Murska AB was destroyed by the Yukes before our forces captured it. The carrier _Barbett_ and her escorts are deployed on the southern side of the peninsula."

"The enemy rapidly advancing towards our forces on the Bastok Peninsula and will probably be in direct contact within days, possibly even late tomorrow. Another force is moving north east into Yuktobania and are likely to reach the coast soon. Compared to the slower spread and occupation we've been seeing in Osea, they seem intent on neutralizing any military forces as quickly as possible. They're crossing as much ground in a few days as we did in a month."

"Not so different from the Belkan blitz during the last war." Pops commented. "But that burned out pretty quickly and they had problems in the rear for weeks." The intelligence officer nodded.

"How strong are they?" President Harling asked. "The forces heading for our Army?"

"Based on Osean and Yuktobanian communications we've tapped into, likely corps strength- 60,000 at least." Everyone around the table shifted at the numerical disadvantage.

"What are our forces doing?" Harling asked.

"Just holding where they are. There hasn't been enough time to organize a counter attack."

"Do you think we should contact them?" Harling directed his question not at the intelligence officers, but Captain Andersen and the former Sand Island personnel. It was no secret that the coup had been allowed to happen thanks to many of Osea's high ranking military commanders, many of whom were in Yuktobania now. New situation or no, it was difficult to know if Harling could make himself safely known and how those leaders would react to their plans being revealed. The Kestrel battlegroup was traveling under radio silence for that exact reason.

"Well," Captain Andersen spoke up. "I think all our people in Yuktobania would be glad to hear a friendly voice. Morale was dropping before the aliens were even spotted." Wardog Squadron's desertion and subsequent 'death' had been widely reported only a few hours before the first sightings. Though not believed by all, the loss of the Army's guardian angels and the (implausible) fear Yuktobania had been using Wardog to set up some grand trap, had severely shaken Osean confidence in a quick and easy war.

"He's right." Pops nodded. "Besides, I think they're more worried about the invasion than a court martial."

"If they try, we can stop them." Captain Snow, always the soldier, assured. Austin was still coming to terms with all the Yuktobanian deaths he'd caused. The idea of having to combat Osean forces did not sit well with him at all. But he gave a stiff nod of agreement all the same; they had to do whatever it took.

Harling looked at the map for a few more moments deep in thought, his fingers tracing along the two different advances the enemy was undertaking in eastern Yuktobania. Finally he tapped where the _Barbett_ was located. "From here, we could attack both enemy advances, correct?" The military personnel present nodded. Harling nodded thoughtfully and then turned his attention back to the Osean forces all massed outside Cinigrad. "Northern Yuktobania hasn't been affected, has it?" He asked, tracing an arc from Cinigrad that came down roughly near the waters of the east coast.

"No." Andersen confirmed. "But with the enemy deploying from the Jilache Desert, it will be in a few days."

"Is it conceivable to evacuate our forces near Cinigrad by air through the north of the country?" Harling finally asked, retracing the arc he'd made earlier. Andrew thought back to Grimm talking about his brother; he'd been moved closer to Cinigrad for the final assault and would be one of the men trapped there now.

"Not very." Snow has blunt.

"I'm afraid he's right." Captain Andersen confirmed sadly. "Even if we still have cargo aircraft left on this side of the country, they couldn't possibly evacuate hundreds of thousands of people."

"The Vladimir Mountains though." Andrew pointed to the mountain range they'd been ambushed in only a few short days ago. "It runs from Okchabursk nearly to the mountains around Cinigrad. If they can't break through our forces there or through the Yuktobanian forces defending Okchabursk, at least their ground forces can't get into northern Yuktobania.

"Our forces could travel north of the mountain and reach the east coast that way." Harling realized. Captain Andersen, Snow, and Pops gave rueful smiles to the other two men trying hard to devise a way to save the stranded Osean forces. They didn't have to air lift capacity to get them out and the ground forces didn't have the supplies to reach them. It was a hopeless situation, but it wasn't surprising to see the two- a young man who saw himself as a trusted protector and an older leader who really did seek to aid his populace- try to find a solution anyway.

"Whatever our intention, we actually need to meet up with our other forces first." Andersen reminded them. "Which group should we rendezvous with, sir?" Harling looked over the map again, his eyes once more focusing on northern Yuktobania.

"Here." He pointed to where the _Barbett_ was. "We're going to defend both peninsulas from here." Captain Andersen nodded in understanding. "When can I start broadcasting to our forces?"

"You could right now, sir. Although I wouldn't recommend advertising our presence when it's just us right now. These invaders have attacked our ships already."

"Of course." The president conceded to the experienced sailor. "We'll wait till we've joined our other ships. Keep the Razgriz on alert too." Harling turned to Austin and smiled. "I think they might be able to do better than me."

Despite the stress of the situation still, Andrew managed a small grin and an affirmative nod. Soon, very soon, they could start redeeming themselves.


	11. Chapter 11

XX A/N XX

Starting with this chapter, I'm trying to fill out Strangereal more. Coming up with fictional names and governments for countries is surprisingly difficult. But by the end I intend to paint the entire world, so again, I recommend consulting a map to give you a rough idea. For future reference, I envision eastern Osea as a mix of European and Asia countries, and western Verusa as a mix of the Middle East and Africa. Ace Combat X makes it pretty clear the southern Osean nations are similar to the southern portions of the Americas, although Aurelia has a newspaper that writes in French for some reason. Maybe a fictional Louisianna.

X December 13th X

Osea: Morale is still high among most Race forces as the conquest proceeds smoothly. Resistance is sporadic and often fruitless. Most of the eastern countries are the same, and Race aircraft squadrons are rapidly relocating to hundreds of airports and airfields around the continent with the intention of being operational within days.

Belkan Nationalists continue to resist. There is no rest for the Grey Men's aerial forces as pilots repeatedly launch themselves into the air to maintain control of the skies. Over 200 killercraft have been lost in the theater so far. Race ground forces come into contact with Belkan militants and militia in the country's southwest. They aren't as well armed as the Race troops in front of them, but they make up with skill and knowledge of the terrain. They can only hold part of the force back though, and The Race continues advancing along Belka's southern region. Agents in Dinsmark use a pair of car bombs to kill nearly two dozen males in the Belkan Capital, rattling the enemy who's still under the impression the country isn't armed.

Armed with five explosive metal bombs, a force of over 100 killercraft take off from southern Osea for Lesath with five cities targeted, including the capital Alendal. It is coincided with a larger attack on the southern Osean countries to ensure safe passage. Seven are still shot down enroute to their targets though, but not the ones carrying the bombs.

Unexpectedly, Leasath's Air Force crosses the border to intercept the force above its northern neighbor, the Turuel Republic. The Turuel Air Force joins the scuffle and the situation deteriorates to complete chaos, with several instances of human fighters lost to friendly fire or other human fighters. One of the explosive metal bombs are shot down before Race forces break through into Leasath.

Most of Lesath's military is deployed to the country's south to destroy the landing site and reinforce its southern border should Aurelia fall, but there are still anti-air sites throughout the country. Three of the killercraft carrying EMBs are able to drop their payload on the industrial cities that were targeted. The one bound for Aleldal is shot down on the outskirts of the city, its payload not detonating. Leasath militia secure the wreckage and the bomb is quickly taken by government forces. Less than a quarter of the killercraft force that departed Osea returns.

Leasath's Supreme Commander, from a reinforced underground bunker on the islands south of Leasath, makes a broadcast condemning the successful bombings and urged the country to fight and use whatever methods possible to resist. The Army is rolling over the disorganized Race forces in the south, with artillery indiscriminately hitting both hurried defensive positions and hastily set up hospitals for those injured by the atomic blast. Reservists are still being called up and civilians are being drafted on the spot. Killercraft in Aurelia are trying to fly north and help, but it is a hard fight.

A regiment from the Aurelian Army starts fortifying itself in the Monte Breeze Industrial Area. The only way The Race is getting to Griswall from the south is by going through this mountain area, and the locals are desperate to hold it. At the same time, Aurelia sets up anti-air positions on Mount Nevera in an attempt to stem the killercraft attacks on Griswall and indirectly help Leasath; there are many who hope the enemy will shift focus to their neighbor and give the country a chance to counter attack.

Verusa: There is a noticeably drop in morale among killercraft pilots as they realize the danger of their posting, made worse by infighting among killercraft commanders. Several still want to remove the Tosevite naval presence from the sea to open air transport paths from Osea for supplies and reinforcements. Those wanting to focus on Cinigrad argue that supplies and reinforcements can be moved by starship, a practical but expensive and slower option.

Since they still have stockpiled supplies to use, the former group in overruled and yet another raid is organized against Cinigrad. An explosive metal bomb is explicitly denied by the Fleetlord and efforts of the strike are focused instead on the rearguard Osean units than the entire Tosevite armies. With a higher focus on a smaller target, Race killercraft manage to inflict severe casualties on the Tosevite forces while only losing 94 killercraft during the raid- a major improvement over the previous days. Race ground forces are still days away.

The Race's spread throughout western and southern Yuktobania goes on almost unimpeded save for Osean and Yuktobanian hit and run attacks in the south. The OMDF again strikes Race forces advancing on the Bastok Peninsula. The two armies are expected to come into contact within two days. Their advance northeast towards Okchabursk is proceeding at a steady pace.

The spread throughout the western and southern countries continues, with attacks by partisans and scattered military forces picking up. They aren't enough to stop the advance, but they succeed in worrying Race commanders.

Anea: Air operations are suspended over most of Estovakia, save for the southern peninsulas where Race movement is still unopposed. Bombings of the northern Nordennavic islands are also suspended when it is realized the weather is simply too hazardous for killercraft to fly in. Operations over Emmeria, however, are still constant and causing more damage to the country by the day. The starships carrying the Estovakian contingent land in the Molach Desert.

Race forces have pushed back the Emmerian defenders to the suburban outskirts of the Capital, but each mile becomes more difficult. The Emmerian Navy has discovered the effectiveness of electronic warfare and the house to house fighting is proving deadly for landcruisers and infantry males. Gracemeria's 8 million residents have already started being evacuated to the country's southern coast by boat. Emmerian forces near the Estovakian border have not come into contact with the enemy yet.

Ragno Fortress is finally leveled by killercraft, but Emmerian soldiers remained hold out in the lower levels of the complex, forcing infantry males into deadly close quarters combat. But the Race is again advancing west. Emmerian defenses on the southern peninsula are still being bombed, but they hold out.

The occupation of Khesed Island continues. Bartolomeo Fortress is bombed by killercraft, but Race commanders show little interest in launching a ground offensive. Transport planes are unloaded and helicopters are deployed to the island's east coast. In the following days, they are hoping to capture a coastal airport on the mainland and start sending forces over. Seven killercraft are shot down during the day, and the division commander at Bartolomeo meets with his staff to discuss any possible actions against the enemy. A small collection of Emmerian Navy ships are still patrolling the seas between Khesed and the mainland.

Western Estovakia is in chaos due to the destruction and desertion of much of the LUF's armed forces and rumors General Lyes himself was killed in the bombings. Eastern Faction forces begin pulling back from the line towards the Skoynia Peninsula to stop the advance there. All available forces are redirected to stop The Race from breaking out into the main continent.

The Generals meet to discuss whether they should reveal the Aerial Fleet Initiative to its neighbors. Despite their patriotism and disdain of Emmeria for providing humanitarian aid to the LUF, they are practical enough to realize they have absolutely no chance of winning a conventional war with a numerically superior enemy. The Aerial Fleet is their- and the continent's- only hope. They respond to their neighbors that the missiles were part of a weapons program and request aid, agreeing to send the design documents, and pictures proving the air frames have already been completed, to their ministries of security for each country for study.

In the same meeting, one of The Generals brings up Chandelier- the massive railgun Estovakia had started building in the last millennium to counter Ulysses. It was never completed, but is still in a state on near completion in the northeastern sea. As it was designed to strike asteroids in the upper atmosphere, they wonder if it could be finished and used as a defensive weapon against the aliens. The idea is impractical given their resource shortages and lack of ability to protect the site from the type of air power their enemy can bring against it, but it is agreed to keep it in mind.

Race forces come into contact with Nordennavic soldiers outside their capital. Tosevite raids in the rear fool Race commanders into thinking they're being outflanked and as such less forces are committed to the actual assault, allowing the human defenders to hold them off. The Race's desert colored vehicles stick out greatly against Nordennavic snow.

The evacuation from the Nordennavic Islands begin. Having not gone far from their ships, all Race forces have re-boarded and both starships are ready to leave by that evening. All three ships prepare to launch and return to orbit for a day to reorganize before landing back in Emmeria. Due to weather, killercraft cover is few in number.

The launch of the starships is picked up by the Nordennavic Navy, which focus fire on one of the ships as it starts to gain altitude. The damage, combined with damage during the landings and some caused by the country's frigid weather while they were on the ground, causes it to lose power just before 80,000 feet and plunge down into the icy northern waters. There are no survivors.

A meeting is planned between the shiplords in Anea to decide how to deal with Nordennavic and its potent but nearly untouchable manufacturing capabilities.

Usea: Despite their initial momentum, the progress of Race forces begins to severely drop on the second day of the landing. Killercraft operations have slowed considerably due to the death of hundreds of flight and squadron leaders and the loss of unit cohesion as survivors of decimated squadrons are thrown together to perform strikes. Many killercraft are still operating from their starships, a cumbersome method that limits their ability to deploy.

The FCU 6th Fleet launches a series of successful airstrikes again the rear units of The Race's eastern advance. This provokes a one hundred strong killercraft raid that is beaten back at the loss of two ship, damage to the _Fort Grace_ , and a quarter of its naval fighters. Operations end midday and the Fleet decides to pull back away from the coast to wait for the Dragonet II to arrive. Commandos are transported to the shore first though, to act as recon and target Race force that have occupied several desert towns during their advance. Evacuations from St. Ark are continuing at a rapid pace.

FCU aerial forces in the south cross the Lambert Mountains and attack the forward units of the advance with strike fighters and bombers, halting them for the rest of the day. Three squadrons of X-02s are sent to probe Race defenses around the Altoora Desert landing site. Though they manage to pick off some killercraft at long range, it is realized the defenses are currently far too thick for any sort of air operation to destroy them.

For a second day, Federation armored forced hold Race advance from San Salvacion in place, due only to the fanatical determination of its Air Force to keep air superiority in the area. The number of total fighters in the FCU has dropped below 400, but operations continue throughout the day. A Race Large Combat Group cross south into Amber with the intention of going around the defenses.

The city of San Salvacion, which has been destroyed by the fighting, finally falls. The collapse of human defenses is largely attributed to the cessation of air support from Delarus, which has been forced to turn its focus to Race forces approaching their western border from Erusea. Over 12,000 males are killed in the battle, and are too fatigued to chase retreating San Salvacion citizens and soldiers who are heading north. Ugellas has been successfully occupied by this point and it looks as if San Salvacion will be the next Usean nation to completely fall.

The Race forces who crossed into Amber from Erusea, numbering only 25,000 now, start a slow advance south towards the western flank of the ISAF defensive line that started forming that morning. Their advance is picked up and they retreat back to the border towns after ISAF jamming and air strikes destroys their armored spearhead.

Of the 50,000 males who entered Amber from San Salvacion, only 30,000 are in fighting shape by the middle of the day. ISAF jamming and airstrikes are relentless, and Race units have become scattered and isolated due to the communication failures. Without orders, half on those in Amber start retreating back to the border. Others stay where they are, and others continue advancing into stalwart defenses.

Believing that killercraft have weakened the defenders, the depleted landcruiser force once again attacks Erusian positions in Whisky Corridor. This time, they are almost completely destroyed by the human defenders. The survivors regroup with the force marching on Farbanti, leaving the area between the mountains to the 30,000 males who departed from the southeastern landing site.

Race forces advancing along that southern Erusian coast begin to slow between ISAF airstrikes, heavy urbanized environments, naval bombardment, and attacks by Erusian resistance fighters. FCU troops are landed on the Gunther Peninsula to shore up Erusian defenses there.

Race forces come into contact with Erusian defenders north of Farbanti later that evening. With layered defensive lines and naval support from ships who sailed inland through Erusian rivers, the Race attempts to break through are in vain.

As the sun sets over Usea, a pair of fighters launch from Delarus and manage to breach the San Salvacion landing site and shoot down eighteen killercraft. Once night arrives, ISAF stealth bombers begin targeting alien forces in southern Erusia and Amber.

By the end of the second day, 14% of the males ordered to invade Usea are dead or wounded, less than half of that is the starship shot down over North Point. The smallest landmass on the planet is quickly shaping up to be possibly the most difficult. The shiplord in charge appeals to Atvar from reinforcements from the surplus of forces currently in Osea.

X December 14th X

At a meeting on the _Hetto_ , Atvar meets with a collection of Race scientists and researchers to discuss the plan to contact the Tosevites for negotiations. The matter is simple in some countries, mainly those in Osea, since The Race managed to capture several government figures during their landings. The matter is not so simple in other countries.

Plans are made to broadcast the request in the more advanced countries that have retained some electronic capabilities. Those in weaker countries, particularly on Verusa, will have to be delivered by hand claw. Atvar allows select males down to lead the efforts. Countries on the Osean continent will be approached first, believing they'll be the easiest. Yuktobania and Anea are next on the list, followed by the Usean countries before finally the other Verusian countries.

Osea: The Race continues solidifying its hold over the continent. Despite this, resistance action is picking up in all the eastern nations. At the Fleetlord's instruction, 180,000 males begin forming up at Osea's southern border with Federation of Laglana States.

Leasth finally overruns the southwestern landing zone after equipping troops with the necessary protective gear. It's intelligence agency manages to capture several uninjured males alive as well as some un-radiated equipment. The starship stranded by the EMP, however, is destroyed by Race killercraft before it can be taken. Despite the loss, Leasth is in a state of jubilation, being the first country to successfully defend itself despite the various nuclear detonations on its soil.

The news doesn't spread beyond southern Osea, but it manages to boost the confidence of the southern nations. Aurelia notices Race activity in its country slow after the news. The rapid pace of the fighting and the shock of being so quickly pushed back has left them dazed.

Verusa: As in Osea, The Race is trying to tighten its control over the western and southern nations. Attacks by remnant forces and irregular fighters are still picking up in intensity though. It's still apparent more forces than necessary were dedicated to smothering the regions, and Atvar considers redeploying some of the forces north to Anea.

Yuktobania produces bad news for another consecutive day. Following yesterday's attack, Osea's forces around Cinigrad have begun reorganizing to face the attack coming from the east. In the first official cooperative action of the war, Yuktobanian troops join them. Anti-air forces are pulled back and consolidated, making killercraft attacks much more dangerous. Yuktobania's military government resolve that if this defense fails and alien forces reach the road to Cinigrad, they will use the nuclear option. This fact is kept secret from Osean and even Yuktobanian commanders.

Race aerial forces are still trying to wrest control of the skies over eastern Yuktobania, but the Osea isn't giving up. By now forces on the Bastok Peninsula have dug in and are ready for anything.

Anea: Efforts begin to falter on the continent.

Almost a third of the 90,000 strong force that were sent to capture Gracemeria has been killed in the frantic urban fighting by the numerically superior Emmerian Army. With additional troops landing in western Emmeria later that day, Race commanders reorganize their forces. The forces meant to engage Emmerian force in the east are to instead pull back and join the attack on Gracemeria, leaving the males assigned to Estovakia to break through the Tosevite defenders. The remaining forces are redirected to invade the southern Emmerian peninsula. They still have air superiority over the country.

The Eastern Faction's fabled Stringon and Vampire squadrons relocate to a base at the top of the peninsula and launch against the enemy later that day, shooting down a total of 79 killercraft between them. The Eastern Faction is rushing in as many forces as it can by air, train, or even marching. Since the paratroopers already started on the necessary fortifications, it is decided to make the line at the central air base. Tanks, railway artillery, and ships are all being sent to reinforce this 93-mile-wide stretch of the peninsula.

Race forces surrounding the Nordennavic Capital start to fall apart. More and more forces have to be sent to the rear to keep them connected with their starship and supply base. The advantage of numbers has already been lost and Race air superiority can't protect the rear areas from raids. The Race cannot adapt to fighting in winter weather fast enough.

Emmeria and Nordennavic make their studies of the Estovakian Aerial Fleet brief due to the wartime situation. Despite the imminent removal of all alien forces from their borders, Nordennavic knows that it will still have lost if its larger neighbors are occupied. After only four hours of deliberation, they agree they will send engineers and refined resources 'to help Estovakia maintain its sovereignty.' With completed design documents, worries about the post war are not significant. Nordennavic does clarify it expects future repayment, something The Generals agree to.

Emmerian officials are stunned and frightened by both the concept and the progress Estovakia has made. Most do agree that the concept is sound, although there are some shortcomings, such as a lack of air-to-ground and point-defense capabilities. The idea of it being solely under Estovakian control worries them as well. The location of the Fleet's construction is also very far away, making aid difficult. But with air superiority lost over the bulk of their country, its political and military leaders are desperate for a miracle solution. Emmeria tentatively agrees, with some conditions to be delivered tomorrow.

Usea: Race efforts begin to finally gain traction.

Killercraft track down and attack the 6th Fleet again. This time, the _Fort Grace_ is sunk with the last four ships in the fleet. The survivors swim to Snider's Top, a Usean meteoroidal complex. Several fighters manage to flee east though to friendly airfields. The _Sessrúmnir_ _arrives the northern inland sea at the same time._

Killercraft begin bombing the military forces defending the St. Ark evacuation point. The Race's eastern advance is uninterested in the northern peninsula though and starts to pivot south as it advances, putting it on a collision course with the FCU's defensive line that splits north and southern Usea.

The Race incursion into the southwestern FCU starts to gain ground. Tosevite airstrikes are still causing damage, but they can't maintain the tempo of operations to keep air superiority so close to the landing site. The human armies begin retreating into the more tropical southern states and into the mountains. With only 300 left fighters to defend their air space, over fifty with their navy helping their allies, on two fronts, the FCU is starting to feel the squeeze and starts to consider withdrawing its aid to its allies in ISAF.

Race forces engage defenders on the Erusian/Delarus border. Though they outnumber the defenders and Delarus has a fourth of the fighters it had a few days ago, they are kept from crossing the border for now. But a breakthrough is expected soon. After a day to rest, Race forces move on from San Salvacion north towards the border with Delarus.

The Erusian lines north of Farbanti begin to fold under heavy air attack and as some forces are diverted to reinforce the eastern flank against the force advancing along the coast. The Erusian Capital itself has been heavily damaged by killercraft attack, even more so than the meteors managed. They consider withdrawing their forces from the Gunther Peninsula to shore up its Capital defenses. The FCU protests the idea, since it would give the enemy air bases to attack forces in the Gulf, causing some tensions between the two powers.

Amber is the only Usean country whose situation improves. The intensive cooperative efforts have forced all Race forces back to the border areas. Having quickly recovered from injuries sustained during the evacuation from the Capital, Amber's Prime Minister meets with his party members and Amber and FCU military officials to discuss a possible counter attack. From their central location, a counter attack in Amber can ease the pressure on the rest of Usea. At their disposal are only 23,000 troops and less than fifty fighters, compared to the 40,000 alien forces still in the country.

Atvar reviews the request for reinforcements in Usea. With Osea folding faster than expected, he does believe he can reduce the number of forces into the country without endangering their conquest. He does want to keep most of the forces in the southern area of the empire there though, to ensure an invasion of the southern portion of the continent is successful. He is confident though that Osea will not pose a problem. He authorizes 120,000 males to transfer from northwestern Osea to the San Salvacion landing site. The transfer is intended to be completed within eight days.

The transfer is killercraft is harder, given the lack of air bases set up or captured in Usea so far. He gives operation control of the killercraft squadrons unloaded in the eastern Osean countries to the commanders in Usea. As long as they deploy tanker aircraft, they will be able to strike targets in western Usea. He is also able to authorize 80 killercraft to deploy to airports in both San Salvacion and Ugellas. The approval increases the morale of Race commanders in Usea and allows Atvar to focus more on the trouble areas of Yuktobania and Anea.

Though far more violent and fast paced than expected, the invasion is finally starting to feel under control.


End file.
